Surviving Paradise
by drdit92
Summary: Shipwrecked in the remote South Pacific in 1999, Rick and Kate spend ten years together. The rest of the world believes them long dead. Then, in 2010, a man claiming to be Rick is found. Their story of survival, love, and the giant secret they keep will shock the world and lead to a race to rescue Kate. An A/U story of Romance, Adventure, Suspense, Family & Drama.
1. Chapter 1 Part 1: A Tangled Web of Lies

**This chapter is dedicated to Garrae, who has read every word of this story. For offering me cheers when I was uncertain, and gentle corrections when I got carried away. Thank you so much for all of your support and words of wisdom. One of the many pleasures I've had in writing this story has been getting to know you better. Thanks so much, my friend.**

* * *

For want of a nail, the shoe was lost,

For want of a shoe, the horse was lost,

For want of a horse, the rider was lost,

For want of a rider, the message was lost,

For want of a message, the battle was lost,

For want of a battle, the war was lost,

For want of a war, the kingdom was lost,

For want of a nail, the world was lost

-T. Rundgren

Just over ten years had passed when the butterfly finally flapped its wings. Perhaps those wings had been flapping this whole time, but due to the remoteness of his home no one had paid attention. Either way, he would come to realize much later that however you couched the terms, it was a simple need that led to his discovery, which then eventually led to consequences that reached far beyond the backwaters of French Polynesia.

He would not accept credit, or the label of a hero, when journalists tried to apply it to him, once the story broke. The heroes of this tale were easy to identify: the two who had to suffer the most from the actions of others. Yes, he was the one who first recognized the lies put forth, and he then worked tirelessly to bring justice to the ones who deserved it, and punishment to those who earned it. But Tamahere did not consider himself a hero. That title belonged to Richard Rodgers and Kate Beckett.

* * *

March, 2010

Hunger had driven him to peruse the pantry, with paltry results. Tamahere tried to count back the days since his last trip to the store, and gave up after he passed ten. It had been a while. Not unusual for him. He avoided human contact on principle. However, he was hungry. Looking back later, he would marvel that such a simple need put him on course to affect an entire nation. But at the time? He just needed food. And so he left the isolated hut for the long trek to the store.

Huahine Iti offers plenty of coastlines for its inhabitants to choose from for their homes. The mountainous interior discourages most from attempting to live among the trees, but it was a haven for him. Isolation from noisy, nosy humans. However, it did make the trip to the store an exercise, both physical and mental.

One of the Society Islands of French Polynesia, Huahine was not his home island. However, he had no intention of returning to his family. He'd been lost to them long ago. Ten years, give or take a few months, if one needed a number. He'd tried drinking and drugs while living on Tahiti, just after their rescue. It worked to numb the pain and erase the memories, but the oblivion was always temporary.

He'd lived in fear, during those years, that an insatiable reporter would stumble upon him and start asking the same questions they always asked. Dredge up that damn story again, and he'd be right back there at the start. His carefully constructed sea walls, protecting him from his own guilt, reduced to rubble once more. The nightmares would resume in full fury. He'd then drink to excess, followed by puking to excess. A cycle that his liver did not appreciate. Neither did his mental health.

So, he'd fled to Huahine. He wasn't ashamed to admit it. He knew that he was running. If he never had to remember the whole thing again, he'd die a less unhappy man.

He'd changed his name. He was known as Areiti here. 'Little wave.' It helped with anonymity. No one knew him here; he was a nobody. He kept to himself, and the locals had long ago learned to leave him alone. He was considered eccentric, probably a little touched in the head. He was still young, just into his early thirties, but he looked like he was two decades older.

The weight of guilt is a hard burden to carry. And he knew he alone carried it. Even with the involvement of the others. _They_ lived their life as if it had all been simply a bump in the road. Or the answer to a prayer. Given how their lives had turned on a path so drastically different from his, he supposed it really didn't bother them. He was the one who couldn't forget. Or forgive. Himself, or them.

He reached Parea, the nearest town to him, about forty five minutes after he'd left his hut. He had plenty of money to buy a substantial lunch if he wanted; a pension the government provided him. Blood money, in his opinion. However, holding a job was impossible. He was too broken, too shattered to even attempt work. Not to mention he'd have to be around other people. An insupportable idea.

So, he only used the money if he had to. It thrust the sword of guilt deeper in his gut every time, but without it he'd be forced to pretend he wasn't a ghost of a man. Much later, he would joke that the bloody phantasm that followed him pointed, for the first time, in a positive direction. Or perhaps it was just dumb luck. Hard to say. Either way, he decided to eat at a small diner at the time of day when he knew it would be fairly empty. And so a collision course with fate was set.

* * *

He asked for, and was given, a booth away from the scattering of other customers. Ordered, and then found himself watching a family across the room. Wishing he was whole enough to have what they seemed to have. Joy in each other. Connections to people who cared about you. Soon, his wishes were replaced by a growing anxiety, and he knew he'd need to distract his brain if he wanted to avoid a meltdown. Crying in public by a grown man was seen as strange. If they only knew why he was crying: then perhaps they'd join him.

A stack of papers on an empty table attracted his attention. He got up and grabbed them, just as his food arrived. He managed to thank the waitress without scaring her, and started to eat while browsing the news he'd been willfully ignorant of for so long . Careful to avoid the political section, he started with sports. It was on top, so an easy decision.

His appetite for soccer and handball soon exceeded, he proceeded through the other sections, sans the portion containing news _politique_. That would be too much to deal with. Tears might be the least of his problems if he were to read of _their_ latest exploits, and the praises lauded.

The waitress would never forget the sound of the dishes as they shattered on the hard floor, or the mess they made that later required a prolonged cleaning effort, mandated by her manager. But the true spectacle was the odd man in the booth; half standing, clothes sullied with the soup and sandwich he'd ordered as he held the three day old paper in his trembling hands.

"Is this real? This is not a joke? My God, what does it _mean_?"

He continued to mutter for another few minutes, sinking back into the booth and apparently ignoring the soup that continued to seep into his clothes. The whole diner was staring at him, but he seemed oblivious to their curiosity. When he looked up wildly after he'd finished reading whatever it was that set him off, they could all see the crazed look in his eyes.

It was after he sloppily gestured for someone to come to his table that the manager gave the waitress a push. No one wanted to deal with the man, but he was _her_ table, so she was volunteered. A sacrifice, for the safety of the others.

Wary, she approached until there was a gap of five feet or so. Close enough.

"_Oui, monsieur_. How may I be of help? Do you want another plate or bowl of soup?"

He looked first at the newspaper then at her, eyes swinging back and forth in some demented tennis match that only he could follow.

"What? No, NO. Do you keep up with the news?"

She didn't want to make him more upset by disagreeing with him, though in reality neither she nor her friends paid much attention to the news, unless it involved the latest celebrity gossip. Hopefully he wouldn't ask her something obscure.

"Yes, certainly. Is there a problem?" There was definitely a problem: he was in the diner, at _her_ table. She just wanted him gone.

"This article, the date says it was three days ago. Do you know anything about this matter?"

She had to get closer in order to see what the hell he was muttering about. She gingerly stepped through some soup, and got to within a few feet of the insane man. Holding her hand out for the offending paper, he placed it in her hands like it was the crown jewels of some lost kingdom. He'd been pointing to a small article discussing the sentence of a man handed down by the court, and his subsequent imprisonment in Nuutania prison.

A picture of the felon was next to the article. It was a close up shot of the man in question. He had unkempt dark hair and a wild looking beard. However, it was his eyes that led to her shiver; eyes that seemed to be staring at her through the newspaper. He looked menacing, according to her friends, but she'd always thought it was grief, and not a threat, that emanated from his eyes. He looked like a man who had lost everything that had ever mattered to him.

Sighing in relief, she relaxed a tiny bit. It had been a very famous trial. Jean Dupont, the prisoner, had initially protested his innocence. Then, faced with the overwhelming evidence of his lies and the animosity of the entire population of the islands, he had stopped talking or even participating in his defense. He'd been condemned to a long term for multiple offenses, including trying to defraud the government. His sentence totaled far more years than anyone would survive. It was, essentially, for life. One that most agreed he'd deserved.

Once he'd given up the fight, people gradually turned to more entertaining news. After all, it was a World Cup year, and France's qualifying had been ugly. Dupont's initial appearance and claims had certainly captivated the islands, but once he changed his plea and admitted to being a fraud the populace turned their attention back to the football pitch.

To further quench the flames of curiosity, the courts had refused to publish pictures of the man, even after he was convicted. French law prohibited media publication of defendants prior to their being found guilty, but it was usual practice to publish photographs of them afterwards. The courts had stated that Dupont was simply after the publicity, and refused to add to his delusions. It had been unusual, though perhaps understandable from a certain perspective.

The article in the paper the crazy man was holding was, oddly enough, the first picture of Dupont since his rescue at sea. Clearly the wish to grant him as little limelight as possible had been successful. Still, she wouldn't have thought there were many islanders who didn't know about the man or his crimes. Just _her_ luck that one of the few who apparently did not know had happened into the diner while she was working.

"Yes, monsieur. I know the basic story. Most of French Polynesia knows it." The unsaid implication was that he must be a true hermit if he was ignorant of the events surrounding Monsieur Dupont's imprisonment.

"I've been…out of touch for some time. Can you tell me a bit about it?"

He must have noted her reluctance to be in his presence, so he quickly added, "Just the basics mademoiselle. You do not need to go into details. Please, sit." He gestured at the seat opposite him. She hesitated, not the least of which was due to looking to see how much soup was on that seat. It appeared dry.

"Please mademoiselle. It is _very_ important. Perhaps a matter of life and death."

Still reluctant, the romantic in her was piqued. How could a scruffy vagrant, such as he appeared to be, have anything to do with one of French Polynesia's most notorious criminals of recent times? She sat, and began to tell him what she remembered.

"Well, ok. It started back about two months ago. Jean Dupont was…"

"Wait, wait. This man was tried and sentenced in just two months' time?"

"_Oui._ Yes. It was a very rapid trial, but he did not fight the charges and the evidence showed he was clearly guilty."

"Still, I've never heard of such a thing," he mused to himself.

"It is true, good sir. Everyone thought it was fast, but the government wanted it expedited due to the scandalous things he was saying. Once he realized he was fighting a tsunami of bad press, he gave up and it was a simple matter. It was quite the spectacle, initially. However, it was over so quickly; people condemned him for his crimes and then moved on to the next interesting story."

"Ok, sorry for interrupting."

He seemed much saner now and his manners had certainly improved. She relaxed a bit more and continued.

"Anyway, he was found drifting on a ramshackle boat between the Australs and the Societies by a Chinese ship headed to Papeete for copra. They had altered their original course due to some weather and a sticky engine. Luckily, they had an alert crewman at the helm that day; he saw the boat and managed to avoid running over it. When they came about, they saw there was a man in it, though he was not in good shape. They sent a small party over to the boat and rescued him. He was very emaciated and dehydrated. A few more days and he likely would have died."

"He was alone? No one else on the boat?" He stared intently at her, as if she were withholding part of the story deliberately. She wondered why he seemed to know so much about the story when he claimed he'd just learned of it in the newspaper.

"Sir, I must ask. Do you know this man, this Jean Dupont?"

He startled, eyes darting wildly all around the diner before settling back on her.

"No. No, I don't know him. He just _looks_ like someone I used to know. The picture caught my eye, then I read the story and became curious."

"You became so emotional when you read the story," she remarked into the subsequent silence, trying to encourage him to talk.

"It was a surprise to see the picture of the man who _looks_ like my old friend, and then to read that the man was thrown in jail. Surprising, and very upsetting. I am sorry for the mess I've made here," he gestured to the table, still dripping soup slowly to the floor below.

"I can see it would be distressing to read of a friend or acquaintance in jail for such infamous actions. I am glad he is not actually your friend, indeed, monsieur." The man nodded at her. "Now, let's see. I was telling you of his rescue by the Chinese crew, no?"

"Yes. You said he was alone. No one with him on the boat, not even a woman?"

"No, he was alone," she wondered at the strange comment. Perhaps this hermit had lived alone for far too long, and was projecting his loneliness to the man in the boat?

"I see," he said. '_It has been so many years. Perhaps they were separated. Or it was always just him, alone for all these years_,' he thought to himself. '_Oh, Hopo. What happened to you?_'

If she had not been sitting in the same booth she would never have heard him. Even so, she didn't understand it at all. Dupont had never claimed to be with anyone else. Even in his wildest declarations, he had always said he was alone.

"And then?" the man asked, breaking her from her reverie.

"The Chinese crew had a medic. They were able to start to rehydrate him. They noticed some blood on the back of his head, and found a bump; they thought he'd had a head injury. They saw he was not Polynesian, though his skin was deeply tanned by the sun. However, since they found him in Polynesia, they brought him to Papeete where he was placed in the hospital, still unconscious."

"Any identification on him? Where did he come from?"

"Sir, I am getting to that. Please, a moment."

"I am sorry. I'm not used to speaking with other people. Especially pretty young waitresses such as yourself."

She couldn't help but smile at that. The man wasn't so bad, once you got to talk to him a bit. Rough around the edges, certainly. But not a bad sort, underneath.

"Anyway, he was in the hospital for several days before he awoke. Naturally, it was a sensation at the time. Even in the South Pacific, we do not frequently find starving sailors drifting past the islands in need of rescue. Initially, he had complete memory loss. Though now awake, he could not say who he was or what he had been doing on the little boat. The head injury and the dehydration, explained the doctors. Then, about a week after his rescue, he was visited by a local reporter. They intended to publish his picture in the paper, let him tell them any details of his life he knew and see if anyone recognized him."

The man nodded his head. "That seems like a good place to start if you need to find out the identity of someone who can't remember anything."

Nodding the waitress agreed and then hesitated just a minute. She was really enjoying the dramatics this story was about to unveil.

"Yes. Except the man _had_ remembered his story by then, and told it to the reporter. Who faithfully copied it down and published it. It was at this point that all hell broke loose."

"Why? What did he say that caused such excitement? That led to his arrest and rapid conviction of fraud, among other things?" The man was now staring at her with an intensity that would have frightened her if she wasn't so caught up in the story.

"He claimed to be a dead man. And not just any dead man, a famous dead man." She gave a slight smirk, aware of the impact of what she was about to say.

"Who did he claim to be?" he whispered, eyes closed. He prayed he was right, that he knew exactly who this man was and what it meant. But if he were correct….the implications were staggering.

"He said his name was Richard Rodgers."

* * *

**And so we begin. Thank you for reading. This story is completely A/U, and shall be updated every 2 days unless I run into technical problems. **

**All standard disclosures apply. I have nothing to do with the show, or they with me. I am a fan, and this story is my attempt to pay homage to characters that I adore. Thank you to all who bring us the wonderful world of Castle.**

**Finally, I have written this as a long-held dream. Every single work I've done until now has been in preparation for this story. It has been a labor of love, but still a labor. I hope there are people out there who find some enjoyment from it as well. It is not what happened on the show, but it is a story that I can **_**imagine**_** happening, had things turned out differently. This is, from beginning to end, my love story for Rick and Kate. Please let me know if you like it. Thank you.**

* * *

**Twitter: drdit92**

**Tumblr: drdit92**

**I will post some pics and maps to Tumblr at the appropriate times.**


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is dedicated to EES. A friend without a fanfic account, she was the one who introduced this Serenity/Firefly fan to Castle to begin with. She's read the whole story and has let me bounce ideas for the story arc off her. She keeps demanding updates, forcing me to write more than I might otherwise. She's a great friend and an even better person.**

* * *

March, 2010

They were following him. Tamahere had noticed them nearly the second he'd arrived in the Tahitian capital, Papeete. Either they thought he was a complete wastrel who wouldn't notice the obvious tail, or they just didn't care that he knew they were there. Either way, it complicated things. Though perhaps it was a bonus; it prevented him from rushing into disaster unwittingly. He knew he had to approach the situation carefully.

He'd come to Papeete for the library. Huahine didn't offer much. So, he checked into a cheap _pension _and proceeded to plan his next moves. The advantages of disappearing from society for as long as he had meant no one, including _them_, knew what he was capable of. He decided to play the drunkard. If they thought he was a raging alcoholic, then some of his movements would likely be dismissed. He had been soused and stoned when last they'd seen him, ten years ago, so it was unlikely to raise their eyebrows now.

Despite his anxiety to move forward, he'd been careful. Drunken persona established over the course of a few days, he'd noticed they stopped keeping as close an eye on him. So, he added in some staggered meanderings past the library, then finally started going in. Once inside, he would pretend to fall asleep after one too many drinks. The library staff left him alone, and after nearly two weeks, so did his tail. Apparently watching a lush snore was not high on their list of priorities.

Thus, he was able to research the story of Jean Dupont, the name given to the man (now prisoner) who claimed to be Richard Rodgers-the man Tamahere knew as Hopo. He read every account he could, then went back on microfiche to the time ten years ago when Rodgers had been declared dead, lost at sea. Of course Tamahere had been a part of the whole thing at the time, but most of it was a blank.

He'd been ill, then overwhelmed after being rescued. He didn't admit, even now, that the guilt he carried had played a large role in his illness back then. He'd drank and gotten high to forget. It was a strategy that worked well, at the time. In retrospect though, it was stupid. He simply didn't remember much of those first few years once he was safe, back in the arms of civilization.

He wanted to go back in time: find and shake the stupid boy he'd been. Shake him free of the idiocy that had allowed him to sink to such deep depths of despair. He'd let them down, or at least had let Hopo down, that was clear. But at the time, the guilt of abandoning the two of them behind had threatened his sanity. Leaving, without knowing for sure. Well, now he thought he did know. And it was a hell of a mess, of that there was no doubt.

Given the immediate attention he garnered on his arrival to Tahiti, he knew a direct approach would be disastrous: death likely for both him and for Hopo. Tamahere knew _they_ had to be exquisitely nervous. Deep seated insecurities stirred up by the discovery of the emaciated man in the dilapidated boat.

If the public had bought the Richard Rodgers found in a boat after ten years story, _they_ would have had a lot of explaining to do. A public relations nightmare. Probably the end of their careers, perhaps even a criminal trial. Now that he, Tamahere, had resurfaced as well, he was sure their hackles were raised high. He could not afford for them to figure out what he was up to.

He decided leaving Papeete was the best course of action, though he wished he could have sent a message through to Hopo somehow. Something that let him know there was a person alive who believed him, a person wanting to do the right thing after a string of wrong decisions. Yet it was impossible; it almost certainly would have been intercepted, and led to a quick death for both of them.

How easy it would be for _them_ to eliminate the threat now, when no one else suspected the true story. Both he and Hopo were expendable. He was pretty sure they would kill Hopo anyway, after all the publicity of the trial disappeared. Tamahere realized he had to leave Papeete; get off their radar. After a long night of weighing his options, he purchased a ferry ticket to Mo'orea the next day. In cash. Might as well leave as little of a trail behind as possible.

No one seemed to care; no one appeared to follow him. He felt fairly sure his tail had been called off after his library act, but to make sure he waited three more long, empty days on Mo'orea to be certain. After nothing untoward, he made his move.

The law office was unassuming and informal, as befit an office not on the main island. There was a secretary in the front room who took his name; he told her his assumed name, Areiti, just in case. She told him that her boss would be with him shortly. Indeed, no more than five minutes passed before Afaitu Tutomo came and escorted him personally into his office.

Afaitu was young, no more than late twenties to early thirties. In reality Tamahere's own age, though Afaitu looked the part whereas he, well, he knew he didn't look good. Clearly Afaitu had never carried the burden of guilt that had nearly crushed Tamahere into the ground.

"How may I help you, Monsieur Areiti?"

Tamahere…Areiti now….started babbling about some far-fetched story involving two neighbors, pigs and a long simmering feud, trying to read the body language of the other man. Afaitu was a distant cousin; they shared a great uncle-the greatest man Tamahere had ever known, God rest his soul. However, it was hard to know if he could trust this young lawyer. They'd never spoken to each other until this meeting, and he would have left him out of it altogether if he could have.

The truth was that he was desperate for help. Thus, the convoluted pig story. Purposeful misdirection had seemed the best option: get to know the man a bit before springing his soul-wrenching, anal-clenching story on him.

Afaitu quickly lost interest in the jumbled tale that was long on blame, but short on a rapid solution. Tamahere had chosen it carefully, watching to see if the man across from him would simply dismiss him, or if he'd pay attention despite his lack of interest. When Tamahere was assured of the latter, he gave an internal smile and relaxed a bit. Afaitu would do nicely.

Once his story ran out of steam, Afaitu made some noises about trying his best to help him. Their time was running short; Tamahere had to make a stab and hope he hit his mark, and not himself. Metaphorical blood would be shed, one way or the other.

He waited for the lawyer to shift, act as though he were about to escort him out of the office, before he dropped his mask of affronted neighbor and donned his usual face: serious, introspective. Not a man easily dismissed, especially if one looked into the depths of his eyes and saw the pain he carried.

"You are the great nephew of a man I held in great reverence for all my life," he declared, voice low and sonorous. Tamahere could do _gravitas_ when he needed it.

Afaitu was silenced. He stared at him, clearly not sure how to respond to the change in subject. The change _in_ his subject. Obviously, this was more than just a stupid neighborhood dispute.

"Your great uncle was also my great uncle by marriage. He and Hina took me under their wing, taught me what they knew, and gave me a place when I wasn't sure what I wanted to do or who I wanted to be. They made a man of me. I repaid them by accepting a great lie and perpetrating an immense injustice against two innocent people."

Afaitu maintained his silent staring. For a lawyer, he wasn't very loquacious.

"I am Tamahere, and I have a great favor to ask of you. Together, we will reveal this injustice to the world. And in the process, hopefully bring at least one person back from the dead."

* * *

Three weeks had passed. Three weeks in this hellhole. A drop in the bucket compared to what his sentence had pronounced, though being sentenced to life in prison certainly does not guarantee that said prisoner will live a _long_ life. He was quite certain there were several powerful people hoping for quite the opposite, in his case.

Nothing overt had occurred so far, though he did not know how long that fact would remain true. Since he had stopped claiming his own name, the direct threats had ceased. He was sure, once the publicity died away, that his life expectancy would be measured in hours, not the years of the sentence they had handed down to him.

He was a desperate man, looking for any friend. He _had_ to have someone believe him, else all would be lost. Yet he was surrounded by men who could not be trusted. Guards and prisoners alike. Nuutania prison was built for some 61 prisoners. It currently held over 250. It was widely believed to be the most decrepit and overcrowded prison in all of France, which of course included French Polynesia. Nothing he had seen so far had changed his mind.

His musings were cut short by one of the guards speaking rapid French. He had learned a lot more of the language since his incarceration. "Dupont, your lawyer is here. Get moving."

_His lawyer_? What a joke that was. His lawyer was employed by the government. And the government had wanted him put away. Forever.

He thought about ignoring the order, but a possible beating-and the attention it called to him-weren't worth the effort. So he went. It turned out to be the best decision he'd made in months.

He did not recognize the young man waiting for him. However, he had the sense to keep his mouth shut. The only meetings that were truly private in this hell on earth were meetings with your lawyer. Thinking this might be an opportunity, he held his tongue until the guard left.

The young man _pretending_ to be his lawyer was a Polynesian. He wore a light khaki suit, common here in the tropics for professional wear. Seated at the lone table, there was a secure looking briefcase at his side. His eyes were curious, assessing him. But there was no inherent judgment. Interesting.

"Mr. Rodgers?"

That gave him a start. Not a single person had called him that since they had officially decreed he could not be who he _actually_ was. Rick sat slowly in the opposite chair, wondering if this was a new opportunity or the beginning of a catastrophe. Either seemed equally likely.

"You have the advantage. I don't know who you are."

"My name is Afaitu Tutomo. I was hired to be your lawyer by someone who knows who you really are, and wants more than anything to help you. Before we go further, I need you to sign these papers accepting me as your representative," he said, sliding the papers out of the briefcase and onto the table between them. He took a ballpoint pen out of his jacket and extended it in his hand expectantly.

Rick let him hold his arm out for a few seconds, deliberately crossing him arms across his chest in defiance of the other man's outstretched limb. "Why should I sign these? I don't even know who it is that hired you."

Afaitu let his arm drop, placing the pen precisely halfway between them. It rested in no man's land, waiting for the sword to fall to one side or the other.

"This is true. However, he told me to give you a message. I have memorized it, as you understand I do not know to what he refers. He told me to tell you the following: "We stacked some forty goddam chicken cages together, several times, Hopo. Now sign the damn papers."

Rick had closed his eyes as he heard the words; emotions flooded him, overwhelmed him. This _was_ the answer to his prayers. The lifeline he had prayed for each and every night of the nightmare. A few tears slipped down his cheeks; neither man mentioned them.

"Tamahere?" Rick asked hoarsely, knowing it was the only man possible.

Afaitu nodded.

"Where has he _been_? Why didn't he help me _earlier_, during the trial? No one came forward to help me, and he chooses _now_ to reappear?" Rick was angry; so much time wasted. He was heartsick. Every day without freedom, one more day that disaster could strike.

"He did not know about your rescue, your trial, or your conviction until a week or so ago."

"Didn't know? I thought it was all over the papers."

"It was, but he has lived apart from society for many years."

"Lived apart…?" Rick started laughing, almost hysterical. "Lived _apart_? Neither you nor he has any idea what '_living apart'_ from society _really_ entails. Lived. Apart. My God, that's a good one."

"Mr. Rodgers, I'm afraid you have me quite lost. I know very little of your relationship with Tamahere, or the circumstances that led him to my door. He told me what he wished, of course. That included what he has been doing, in general, since his own rescue."

"And just what would that be?" Rick asked, somewhat sarcastically. He needed the help, _any _help. That was certain. However, he couldn't ignore his anger at the fact that this particular assistance had come so late to his door. Or jail cell, as it were. What good could anyone do for him now?

"He changed his name and moved to Huahine Iti not long after their rescue. He could not live with the guilt of having abandoned you, especially with the way they were received upon their rescue. He has been essentially a hermit, unthought of for many years. As I mentioned, he only recently learned of your rescue and subsequent trial, and has been trying to think of a way to help you. He decided to contact me, knowing direct correspondence would mean a swift death for both of you."

Rick sighed. He alone knew that the man who deserved his anger was not Tamahere. And it seemed that the man he'd once been proud to call a friend really was trying to help him. "He was right to be careful. I do not expect to be allowed to serve out my sentence."

"Then, Mr. Rodgers, we must be quick, yet smart. The only papers that can be brought in and out of this prison unseen by authorities are those of your lawyer. I will serve as the go between for you both."

Afaitu regarded the other man carefully, as Rodgers sat considering his words. He was tall; thin, but quite muscular. Bearded, though it was now neatly trimmed compared to the wild bush that pictures had captured when he'd first been rescued. Several jagged scars were visible on his left arm where the shirt sleeves failed to cover the strong biceps. He was no longer emaciated, but there was very little trace of fat on his rope-like muscles. He was an imposing physical presence, but it was the eyes that truly revealed the man behind the stony mask he'd schooled over his face. His eyes were wary, though hyper-intelligent. One could see grief intermixed with desperation. Afaitu knew he was being measured by this man, assessed for his worthiness.

When Tamahere had told him of the story from ten years ago, Afaitu had found it to be simply incredible; it was difficult for him to accept it as the truth. He'd been curious to know more, and Tamahere was very convincing. Afaitu had looked forward to this meeting, knowing he was to tell a man who'd been convicted of lying about his identity that there were people who knew the truth, people who wanted to help him.

However, the man in front of him looked to carry a burden far greater than what Afaitu had been told of so far. He'd expected excitement, perhaps joy at being believed. He'd seen nothing of that. No, he'd only found despondency in place of the expected jubilation. A hint of grief in the place of joy. Something else was at play: a mystery that would have to be solved, with haste, if Tamahere were correct about the motivations behind this entire sordid affair.

"Pardon the curiosity, but what am I to you?" Rick's arms were still crossed. He had yet to place his trust in anyone, though he longed to do so.

Afaitu gave him a piercing glance.

"You are right to be suspicious, Mr. Rodgers. You have had little reason to believe in our system of justice so far. But, as you trusted my great uncle with your life, you can trust me as well. Anapa's wisdom extended from his crew that he took under his wing as well as to his family, especially a young, arrogant boy who thought that becoming a lawyer would allow him to right all the wrongs of society."

"You're Anapa's great nephew?"

"Yes, to my great honor, I am. And while I was much younger when all these events took place, I know how my uncle would want me to act. I strive to live up to his example on a daily basis."

Rick was silent for a minute, relieved to find this man was the great nephew of his revered mentor. Suddenly the tense Afaitu had used when talking about Anapa registered with him. "You said you act how he would want you to act? Is he….?"

"Dead? To my eternal sorrow, yes."

Rick hung his head. He'd been counting all this time on being able to put Anapa's incredible knowledge to work for him. No one knew the waters of French Polynesia like the old man. It was a real blow to his hopes and plans, carefully crafted in the long, black, bleak nights of his incarceration. But it explained why no one had found them. He'd long wondered what, or who, had kept Anapa from tracking them down.

"When?" he managed, still reeling from the news.

"Not long after you'd been declared lost at sea. There were complications, and he was far from Papeete. Hina died within a few months of his passing. I believe she could not face living without him. She died of a broken heart."

Rick nodded, eyes becoming hard. He'd overcome so much, this would simply be one more obstacle in a long, long line of them. The news of Anapa's death would complicate his plans, but even more to the point was just how Anapa had died. In Rick's view, this was nothing short of murder. How many _more_ crimes could he lay at their feet? Yet, this man, this lawyer—a relative, no less—acted as though Anapa's death was no more than simple natural causes. Perhaps he didn't understand the true circumstances. It was time for them to start paying the price of their crimes. For Anapa, certainly, but most of all for _her_.

Losing control, he snapped, "Do you have _any_ idea what this means? You sit so calmly, you must not know."

Afaitu, to his credit, remained in control even as Rick raged.

"Mr. Rodgers, I am a lawyer. I must maintain an air of tranquility, even in the face of calamity. I have grieved the loss of Anapa for these ten years. For me, time has softened the sharp edges, but I understand it is all fresh to you. We were reassured it was an accident; is this not true?"

"Not to me. Manslaughter, at the least."

"That is a very serious allegation. You know who you would accuse of this crime?"

"I am very well acquainted, yes."

"Well, while I would like nothing more than to seek justice for Anapa _if_ what you say is true, we must first concentrate on getting you out of jail. My uncle would counsel caution in the face of a storm, no?"

Rick nodded, then relaxed, fully convinced. Somehow the old man's hand still played a part in his life. It was incredible. He offered Anapa's spirit a quick word of thanks, then leaned forward and signed the papers placing him in the hands of this young lawyer.

"So, Mr. Rodgers, I must confess to being confused. Why did you change your plea to guilty? I was a teenager when you disappeared, but I remember well how the news covered your supposed death. There was worldwide attention; the bestselling author who'd died. Surely you could have somehow proven who you were and avoided jail altogether."

"Please, call me Rick. I would give anything to be out of this place, for reasons more important than my own life. You are aware of some of the other passengers on that ship?"

"Yes. Their rescue made them famous. That fame translated directly into the positions they have achieved today. Well, for all but Tamahere of course."

"Then you know how powerful they are. And how dangerous it would be to be recognized as the living, breathing, very much alive best-selling author Richard Castle. Or Richard Rodgers, since I went by my real name while I lived here in French Polynesia those years ago."

"Your real name is Richard Rodgers?"

"My birth name, yes. My pen name is Richard Edgar Castle. I never had it legally changed, though I thought about it. I was grateful I hadn't, for when I came to French Polynesia in late 1998, I was looking for anonymity. No one knew who Richard Rodgers was, so I escaped without too much attention."

"Then that is why everyone here refers to you as Rodgers? Or, at least the man who supposedly died ten years ago is known as Richard Rodgers."

"Yes. Anapa and Hina knew who I really was, but no one else."

"I see," Afaitu mused. "I was confused, as the world knew you as Rick Castle. But here in the South Pacific the papers referred to you as Rodgers."

"It wasn't a deep secret, but I'd guess since so many people here knew me as Rodgers, it stuck. I'm sure in other parts of the world I'm still called Rick Castle."

"And now you've reappeared from the dead. Your sudden claim to your true name, after all these years assumed lost at sea, must have caused _them_ a great deal of anxiety."

"You have _no_ idea. I was threatened, after the article ran. After I'd remembered who I was. They acted quickly, told me in no uncertain terms that I could not be who I claimed. And if I persisted in insisting I was Richard Rodgers, the consequences would be swift—and permanent."

"Yes, I can appreciate that your true identity would cause them embarrassment. But to subject yourself to jail? Surely there was another way."

Rick's gaze was razor sharp, pinning the young lawyer to his seat as one pins a dead insect to a board. Clearly there was more; Afaitu hoped the man would trust him to tell him everything. He couldn't help the man if he didn't trust him.

His decision made, Rodgers spoke. "There's more at stake than just my life."

Afaitu watched as Rick closed his eyes and clenched his fists, seeming distraught and in danger of losing control of the stony mask that hid his underlying turmoil. When several quiet minutes had passed without any further explanation, Afaitu decided to press.

"You know, there are ways to explain your existence that _they_ would not find threatening. I do not know the truth of what happened that day; you are likely the only one who does. However, I can think of several scenarios that would allow the real Richard Rodgers, or Castle, to have a celebrated return. They might even view your existence as a positive. It would certainly bring great attention to Tahiti once again, which would only serve to help them."

Rodgers finally opened his eyes again, this time not bothering to hide his desolation or desperation.

"They probably _would_ welcome me with open arms, given the right story. It would be possible. But I'm _not_ afraid of their reception of Richard Rodgers. They aren't really afraid of me, per se, though their actions seem to argue against that. It is who else they left behind that they truly fear. They don't know if _I_ know everything or not, and they decided the safest course was to stick me in a hole where no one would ever hear my story. But I know _everything_. They should fear me, and more importantly they should fear _her_. And they _do_. They are terrified that she might still be alive. I imagine they have not slept well any night since I was discovered."

Afaitu leaned forward; his balance was threatened, perched on the edge of his chair now. He paid no attention to the danger. His entirety was focused on the man in front of him. Tamahere had really had no idea how involved this all had been, though he had hinted there might be more when he told Afaitu the story.

The noisy din of the prison had faded into the background now. Only the harsh breathing of Rodgers was audible to his ears, as the other man continued to struggle to maintain his composure. Afaitu would later realize he was the first person entrusted to hear the story, and would marvel at the faith imparted to him. In that moment though, all he wanted, all he _needed_, was to hear the answer to a seemingly simple question. A question whose answer would irrevocably change his life.

"Who should they fear?"

Rodgers closed his eyes again and Afaitu feared he'd lost him. The other man visibly swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. Before Afaitu found the courage to ask his question again, Rodgers opened his eyes and fixed his steely gaze back onto the lawyer.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett."

* * *

**I've added some pictures of the real Nuutania prison to my tumblr account. It does not look like a Hilton. Or even a Motel 6.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Story Begins

**This chapter is dedicated to lousiemcdoogle. She's also read all the chapters I've pre-written and offered her invaluable comments and corrections to help me present the best story possible. As a resident of Oceania, she has great insight and interest in the setting I've chosen. Thank you for your excitement over this story and for loving it so much!**

* * *

March, 2010

Katherine Houghton Beckett.

Kate Beckett, in all the newspaper articles.

Afaitu knew the name, though not much beyond that. She had been on the ship as well. Very little had been written about her, other than she'd been an American passenger. Her identity and fate completely overshadowed by the heroic tale of the survivors and the grief over the death of a famous author.

"Kate Beckett? She is alive as well?"

"Yes. We were both left behind. I was knocked unconscious when we wrecked, and can't speak directly to what happened. I cannot point a finger of blame toward anyone, although I do know what actually transpired, thanks to Kate. However,_ they_ could conveniently claim I was simply hard to find; that a search turned up nothing. Overlooking me is a matter that can be easily overcome. However, they cannot say the same about Kate. Thus, she is a threat to them."

"Where is she?" Afaitu knew that all the accounts had told of Rodgers being found drifting alone. He'd been found by a Chinese crew with no motive to lie about who, or how many, they'd found.

"Safe, I hope." Rodgers' voice cracked, emotion transparent. Clearly terrified that Kate Beckett was in danger. "She was fine the last I saw her," he added, hoping that by saying the words out loud that they would be true. Remained true, even now, after such time apart.

"How long has it been since you last saw her?"

"About four months," Rick croaked, anguished at how long it had been.

"You had been with her all that time? The last ten years?" Afaitu asked gently.

Rick simply nodded, too overcome with emotion to reply.

"Where were you two?"

"That—that is a story. A story for the ages. I have written it in my head so many times." He paused, remembering the years with her, before continuing. "We've talked about it so much; I could tell it to you from _her_ standpoint alone if I had to."

"Well, Mr. Rodgers—Rick, if we're going to get you both out of this safely I need to know everything. And I have to be able to share it with others." He leaned down and reached in his briefcase, pulling out a laptop.

"What are you doing?"

"You're an author. Well, I want you to write your story. For me and for all that will need to see it soon."

"Is this safe?"

"As safe as we can be. No one is allowed to search the private briefcase of a lawyer, here in Nuutania. Apart from an x-ray to ensure there is no weaponry inside. The drive in this laptop is encrypted and I have a secure safety deposit box that I'll use to store this flash drive. They will not know the truth until we're ready to reveal it."

"I don't know what a flash thingy is, let alone an encrypted drive. Laptops from my time, before I disappeared, were much bigger and clunkier than this, though I did see some similar to yours during my trial."

"I'm sure a lot has changed since you were given up for dead."

"More than I could ever have imagined. It feels like I was gone fifty years, not ten. It seems like a different world. One that I'd like to learn more about, someday. After she's safe. Finding her is my only focus right now. I'll do anything to help Kate, and if you say this is necessary then I'll do my best."

"Then I suggest you start typing."

* * *

November, 1999

Rick woke early; never an early riser in his previous life, he'd become one by necessity. Didn't mean that he liked it.

The rocking of the waves was greatly dampened while in port. And the smell, ye gods. Nothing like a busy ship port with rotten fish and sewage. He vastly preferred the open water.

But the port is where they restocked; gained cargo. Passengers, perhaps. Crew if they were lucky. They'd lost their last cook to a woman on Bora Bora and they'd certainly not found a replacement in that port. Almost everyone there was involved in the tourist industry, and a job in a battered, rusty boat plying the islands with cargo runs was not high on the list for career moves.

"Hopo? You up, you lazy so and so?" Anapa's voice called, easily drowning out the screams of the sea gulls and the distant shouts from other ships.

Anapa always beat him up. He'd started wondering if the old man ever slept.

"I'm up, I'm up." Rolling out of his bunk, he grabbed a t-shirt and jeans out of his drawer and clambered into them. The bunk was tiny; barely room for his six foot plus frame, but it had been home for months now. There were five total beds in the crew's quarters, all occupied when they were at sea. Sharing meant space was precious and personal storage paramount to prevent angry words over someone's mess. Sometimes he wondered what in the hell he had ever needed all the space in his old apartment for. It was just the basics here. Of course, not needing seasonal clothing helped. Some shorts, t-shirts, a pair of pants. The simple life.

When he got out on deck, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. The beauty of the South Pacific always made his heart lurch a little in his chest. It was a privilege to live and work amongst these islands. They were like emeralds on the surface of the ocean. Such natural wonders to be found; it had been a much needed salve for his soul.

Anapa was standing near the gangway. Dressed up, for him, which meant he was wearing a t-shirt and pants instead of his usual bare chest and shorts that sufficed when out in the open water.

"I'm meeting with a rep for the next run. You keep your eyes peeled for a new cook. I don't want to suffer through more of that inedible crap you call _ma'a_."

Rick nodded. He knew the drill. He'd been crewing with the old man for almost 10 months now. He was no cook, and Anapa was correct; the food he'd thrown together when he'd taken his turn in the galley had been horrible.

"Wouldn't say _aita_ to no passengers neither."

Rick nodded again. Saying no to a passenger wasn't the issue; finding one was. They both knew the likelihood of a _paying_ passenger was slim to none. The _Iriata_ was a good ship, but she was ugly. She was, first and foremost, a cargo ship. She handled very well, needing only a crew of four, besides Anapa. Five if they found their cook. She was light and nimble, but solid against the sea when the waves rose up and pounded against her. Like her captain, she was at her best out on the open water, but the years of making deliveries amongst the French Polynesian islands had taken their toll.

"We need more fuel too. Don't let them cheat you on the price," Anapa warned.

"I know, I know. That was like eight months ago. Am I ever going to live that down?"

Anapa chuckled and swiped at Rick's head affectionately. "_Aita,_ Hopo, probably not. I'll be back; this next run sounds interesting. Oh, and Hina left almost an hour ago. She might need help when she comes back. _Nana_." Without further discussion his bandy legs carried him down the gangway onto the dock, where he rolled as much as walked his way to the mainland.

Rick watched him go, affection for the kind, old man shining from his eyes. He had met Anapa and Hina shortly after arriving in Papeete. At loose ends at the time, not sure what to do with himself after escaping the hell of New York. He hadn't needed a job, but Anapa had seen that Rick needed something meaningful in his life. He needed a guide, someone to help him grow into the man he could be. Anapa had taken on the challenge without batting an eye.

Down a crewman to a stomach illness that ended up being more serious than anyone had anticipated, Anapa had been wandering around one of the docks trying to find a replacement. He'd seen the young American hanging about, and knew sooner or later someone would take advantage of him. So, he'd approached him, struck up a conversation, and quickly found he liked the earnest young man. He'd offered him a job on the spot.

Rick declined initially; he'd come to the South Pacific looking to flesh out the details of a new character he wanted to base a whole series on. A man who could survive nearly anything: sort of a cross between James Bond and MacGyver. He wasn't looking to be a crewman on a cargo boat. Plus he didn't know much about boats, or the ocean in general.

He'd hoped he'd figure out what was missing from his life on the other side of the world. Yet, nearly two months after arriving he'd found little to write about, had no insight into why he was so unhappy in general, and was on the verge of going home. His desire to write was non-existent. Progression on character research at a standstill. Nothing in his life was working the way it should.

Then, he met Anapa. Something about the venerable captain intrigued him. Thus, despite saying no to the wily seaman, he discovered he was fascinated by the man and soon he found himself reconsidering the job offer. When Anapa had asked him to just do a trial run—see how he liked it (or not)—he'd heard himself accepting the offer, much to his surprise. It turned out to be the most important decision in his life, until that point.

Once on board he met Hina, the captain's wife and a native healer. She was nearly as old as Anapa; travelled from island to island with him. It wasn't long before Rick discovered just how valuable these new friends were. They were like living treasure troves. Between them, they knew everything about survival on remote islands: knowledge handed down through their culture for generations. They became his teachers in the ways of the ocean, and in the ways of their people who lived with so very little—yet still achieved a rich, happy life. It was a lesson plan that he never could have paid for with all his wealth; a lesson that impacted the trajectory of his life forever.

That first voyage had been a grand adventure, in his eyes, and he'd stayed on as a crewman. He'd recognized how much Anapa and Hina could teach him. The old man had quickly become a father figure to him, something he'd never really had in his life. He'd finally found a family, and a place to belong.

When Anapa started calling him 'Hopo,' Rick had been swelled with pride; he'd earned a true Polynesian name with his hard work. That pride was diminished, a bit, a month later when he found out that Hopo meant 'great white albatross,' but by then he'd learned the nuances of Anapa's humor and realized it was truly a term of affection between them. Plus he had to admit he had caused some problems for his employer in the beginning.

He hadn't had much of a grasp of the language, _reo Tahiti,_ at the time. Apparently just smiling and nodding when you didn't understand something was not the best strategy-either on land with unscrupulous vendors looking for an advantage, or on a boat with a crew that had no qualms about making the new guy uncomfortable. He'd ended up doing more than his fair share of the worst chores until he'd learned what they were saying.

The months he'd spent on the _Iriata_ since, sailing cargo to and fro and helping Hina provide traditional medical care and advice on the islands, had been some of the best days of his life. He'd learned so much at the feet of Anapa and Hina, as well as the rest of the crew, who were also all native Polynesians. He'd become much fitter, having to haul things up and down ladders into the ships hold, as well as hauling Hina's supplies onshore as she went from house to house helping all those who needed it.

He'd learned simple things, like how to read the ocean, the clouds. And more complex things, like basic navigation. How to start a fire without a lighter. What plants were useful, which were dangerous. Which ones Hina valued for medicines. He'd attended island funerals. Had assisted with nearly a dozen births. Helped set bones. Tended to those who were dying.

In short, he'd learned the things that he thought his character would and _should_ know. If he _himself_ knew how to do something, he felt it would be that much easier to write about it. And actually sound like he knew what he was doing. But more importantly, he'd learned what it meant to be a man of honor, integrity. Anapa was revered throughout French Polynesia, and his example helped Rick mold himself into the man he'd always wanted to be but couldn't figure out how to achieve on his own. He'd truly discovered what he'd always been looking for.

He was busy, but he also had time to write. If he wasn't on duty, he generally spent most of his time up on deck. There was a spot in the bow where he liked to sit. The other men typically spent their down time playing cards or sleeping, but Rick loved the feeling of the open air as the _Iriata_ raced across the sea. He felt very inspired by his new life, and had found it quite easy to start in on his unique character. The adventures Rick found himself living were easily incorporated into fictional life. He had written most of a complete novel now, in longhand, which drove Gina absolutely mad. One of the reasons he liked doing it.

The weather was, of course, wonderful; even in the "winter" he was tanned and buff. He probably looked the best he ever had in his life. Yes, there was no doubt in his mind that coming to the South Pacific had been the greatest decision he'd ever made. And one that likely saved his life.

It was a busy, meaningful existence. He had purpose. The opposite of what he'd left behind. Here, he helped Hina care for people. In New York his only care was having a good time. Here, he had a family with Hina and Anapa and his crewmates. In New York, there was only his mother, and she was usually too busy with her own complicated life to pay much attention to him. He had been lonely all his life; it hadn't changed once he was an adult. Here he was a happy bachelor. He'd sworn off women in New York. He had no current desire to chase any of that. Women were partly the reason he was hiding in the South Pacific to begin with. No, here he was content for the time in his life. Laboring by hand for a man he loved as a father, happy to have a simple, unencumbered life with no room in it for any of the drama that women brought with them. Here, he'd finally found the meaning of paradise.

* * *

Rick jumped off the ship about thirty minutes later. He was the last one off; the other crewman had left last night just after they'd docked. They were eager to visit family in the few days they would have in Papeete, and Rick had no one to visit. Thus, he stayed with the boat. He didn't mind.

They were berthed in a slip that Anapa normally chose; everyone around them knew the old man and respected him. They wouldn't let anyone mess with the boat while Rick was gone. Just to be sure, he gave a whistle he'd learned months earlier at Gaston, the captain of the boat next to theirs. Gaston nodded at him and Rick walked down the dock towards the fuel depot to buy their needed diesel.

"_Bonjour. Comment puis-je vous aider_?" The majority of the people on Papeete spoke French, a language Rick was a little familiar with. He'd picked up a lot of _reo tahiti_ in his months living in French Polynesia, and his French was improving too.

"_J'ai besoin d'acheter du diesel pour le navire Iriata_." Brief negotiations got them the promise of a full tank by the end of the day.

Rick left the fuel depot and headed for the post office next. Papeete was considered their home port; Anapa and Hina both had their mail shipped here. They didn't own a house, choosing to stay on their boat, but they did maintain a mail box, which any of the crew was authorized to open. Rick normally took mail duty when they were in Papeete, as he kept a box as well. He grabbed Anapa and Hina's assortment first; neither usually received much.

Many times communication to Anapa or Hina was done on a personal level. It seemed almost like magic to Rick that they always seemed to manage to pick up a load going to the very island where someone needed Hina. An imminent birth or a sick child. He didn't understand the system, but it worked.

His own box was stuffed full. Letters from Black Pawn, Gina and Paula he pitched, just glancing at them to make sure there was nothing important. They had most of the manuscript, he wasn't coming back to New York anytime soon, and he had tons of ideas for the next book. Nothing they said would change those facts.

That left a few letters from his mother. He hoped she'd given up begging for him to come home. She worried about him; she was his mother after all. He knew his little escape from the greater world had hurt her, as she couldn't understand his desire to remain. Let alone why he was working on a cargo boat. However, she was on her second marriage, and most of her attention was given to her husband. An adult son didn't play much of a role in her life.

He hated reminders of his life in New York. Who he'd been, what he'd done. What had been done to him. His previous life had been full of debauchery and people who only wanted to be around him for what he could do _for them_, not _for him_, the person behind the persona. The press had declared him an irreverent playboy, and he'd done his best to live down to the reputation. He'd been a lost soul, desperately unhappy and completely clueless as to what his life was missing.

Women had been the worst part of it all. Sure, he'd been devastated by Kyra, and had spiraled into a party atmosphere to prove he didn't need her. But then, just as he'd become sober, he'd gotten involved with Meredith. That whole experience nearly killed him. But, it was his desire to flee the suffocation of the city that had led him, ultimately, to where he was now. A journey of self-discovery that had ended up saving him.

He'd embarked on this trip alone. Not certain where he was going, he'd told Black Pawn he needed to do extensive research for his new character, Derrick Storm. They'd not been thrilled, but once he'd finally started writing something, they'd let up on their threats and collective gnashing of teeth. As for the public, he had simply disappeared. He knew they would soon move on to some other lost soul. He doubted anyone would lament the disappearance of Richard Castle, playboy extraordinaire.

The solitude of the ocean had helped Rick regain some much needed equilibrium. He felt reborn, to a degree. He knew at some point, probably sooner than he wanted, he'd need to go back to the States and face his demons. However, for now he was happy. And that was all that mattered for the time being. Nothing his publisher said would change his mind. Not even his mother had that power over him anymore. It had been over a year since he'd left New York, but he wasn't ready to return to the city that had nurtured only his baser instincts. Not now, when he'd finally learned what it meant to be a man in the true sense of the word.

"_Ia ora na_, Hopo. You're back in port! _E aha te huru_?" The now familiar Tahitian words startled him out of his reverie. A familiar voice saying hello to him and asking how he was doing.

He looked up to see Rahiti, one of Anapa's friends greeting him. He wasn't as old as Anapa and didn't spend as much time on the water, so he wasn't quite as wrinkled. Still, his hair was completely grey and, like many of the islanders' elderly, he was much shorter than Rick's six feet two.

"_Ia ora na,_ Rahiti. _Maita'i_. Here just for a day or two. Anapa is negotiating for a run and Hina is off tending to someone," Rick returned the greeting and told Rahiti he was doing well.

"Which way you headed?"

"No idea. Anapa was fairly mysterious this morning, though he said it would be a good run."

"They say there's a cyclone brewing out in the south east. Below the Australs right now. I'm sure Anapa won't care to run into that."

"I don't know. Sometimes I think he likes the challenge of bad weather. Or just watching me puke my guts out over the side."

Rahiti gave a guttural laugh and slapped him on the back. Hard. Wincing, Rick bid him _nana_, or farewell, after exchanging a few more pleasantries with the older man and headed into the market to pick up supplies and some of the herbs he knew Hina needed restocked.

An hour later he was back on the docks, arms full. Gaston waved at him as he passed his boat, indicating nothing untoward had happened while he was away. He climbed up the gangway with a practiced ease and slipped into the galley to stock the groceries. Hina had a small workshop in what had been a cabin on the deck above the crew's quarters; he put the herb packets on her counter knowing she'd square them away before they left.

Once all his tasks were done he retrieved his notebook and pen and went up to the top deck to do some writing before starting in on the ever-waiting chores. The breeze in the open was much pleasanter than the sweltering cabins. He liked writing longhand; it made him feel like one of the authors from two centuries ago, who might have sat on a boat just as he did, writing out a story. Sea air and sea spray were murder on electronics, so his laptop was in storage in Papeete. Gina had railed against the need to have his chapters typed up once they reached her, but with his favorite writing area being the bow of the ship, there was no realistic way he could use a laptop.

He'd been writing for about half an hour, just getting into his groove, when he heard someone hailing the ship from the dock. It was a female voice and much younger than Hina, who did sometimes need help up and down the gangway. Puzzled, he put down the notebook and made his way over to the bulwark next to the dock to see who was calling out.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

It was a woman. She was turned away from him, looking intently at the other end of the ship, as if expecting someone to materialize from the superstucture on the stern. She had long, wavy brown hair, worn down despite the heat, and legs that would not quit. She was wearing modest shorts and a t-shirt. He wondered for a brief second if she might be looking for a passage, then ruthlessly squashed the idea before it took root. Lovely young women simply did not come to the _Iriata_ looking to journey on a cargo ship.

"Can I help you?" His voice was tinged with amusement as she continued to hallo at the top of her lungs.

She turned towards the sound of his voice and his breath suddenly rushed out of his chest as if he'd been sucker punched. She was drop dead gorgeous, even given his distant vantage point. He actually felt a bit dizzy looking at her. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn't hear anything but the swooshing of his blood in his ears. His heart was pounding and his mouth was as dry as the Sahara. He suddenly hoped she had wandered by the boat by accident. He didn't think he could survive being near her for a protracted time.

* * *

**Pictures of the cargo ships I used as inspiration for the Iriata are up on my tumblr account. Also a map of Huahine, a map showing Tahiti and Mo'orea, which are very close to each other, and a map showing the grouping of the Society Islands in general. I'm not sure if most people are familiar with French Polynesia, so thought some maps would be useful.**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is dedicated to honeyandvodka. She was the very first person to read any of what became this story. She selflessly offered her advice and even designed some cover art for me. Although I ended up using my own creation, I was very excited by her work and kind words for my story. Thank you so much for being so patient with me! I appreciate all the discussion and thoughts on how to structure things.**

* * *

November, 1999

She woke early. She always had been an early riser, and halfway around the world her habits hadn't altered, despite the drastic time difference. Of course, for the past ten months she had not slept for more than two or three hours continuously. Nightmares that invaded every time she closed her eyes prevented any thought of restful sleep.

The first rays of the sun were just kissing the sky when she got up and looked out the window. For most of her life, dawn had been a favorite time of day for her. It was peaceful and full of promise for the oncoming day. Dawn in the South Pacific was even more spectacular than she'd imagined, with pinks giving way to fiery reds before the sun made it over the horizon. Yet, she hated dawns now. Ever since she'd discovered that a new day promised nothing more than interminable sorrow.

No, the darkness of night was more her style now. Inky blackness filled the sky in the same way it had invaded her soul. Absence of light matching her absence of emotion. However, the sun continued to rise anew each day, for some reason. These days she simply made a quick cup of coffee and then sat, trapped in the misery that had defined her life since that fateful day in January more than ten months ago.

She had foolishly thought that escaping New York would free her of some of the invisible weights now tied so tightly to her heart. Life in New York had degenerated into a carnival of agony. Her mother dead; murdered in cold blood in a filthy alley. Her father just as lost to her. He'd climbed into a never-ending bottle of alcohol, trying to drown the pain that living without his beloved wife had delivered to him.

Any way you looked at it she'd been left essentially an orphan. She'd tried and tried to bring her father back, but he'd rejected her help. Without anyone willing or able to support her, she'd spiraled herself. Not into a bottle like her dad, but into a cycle of depression and withdrawal that was essentially the same thing.

She'd left Stanford. There was no way she could attend classes, let alone act like a normal college student. Not when the entire foundation of her life had been ripped away. Back in New York she'd made some halfhearted efforts to look at returning to school, but her passion for becoming a lawyer-like her parents had been-had turned to ash.

When her mother's case essentially fell cold, and the prattling of the detectives assigned to investigate revealed just how little they'd cared about finding the truth, she thought she'd found a career. She would become a cop: not just any cop, but the best cop that ever lived. She would be driven by the need to get justice and find answers for those left behind. She would never let the guilty run free, without consequence from their sins. Perhaps she might even be able to find those responsible for her mother's death. Working within the ineffective system that had failed her so far.

It was an idea that grew in appeal the longer she thought about it. An idea she finally decided to pursue one night during the summer, after cleaning up yet more piles of vomit her drunken father had left behind. She was done trying to pull him out of a bottle. She would take matters into her own hands and find answers on her own.

She discovered that the NYPD Police Academy hires twice a year: July and January. Each class takes six months of intensive training. She had missed the July entry, so was aiming to be hired in January. She wasn't concerned that she would get in. She was determined, intelligent and persistent. More than qualified on paper. Just never mind the fact that she felt dead inside. Emotions complicated her quest for justice: she was finished with them. If she somehow wasn't hired in January, she would pursue the next one hiring in July. And continue until she got in. Failure was not an option.

Yet, it was now near the end of November, and she was far from New York. Living in a flea-bag _pension_ in Tahiti, wondering what to do next. Wondering if there was a way to tame the demons to the point that she could move on with her life, to some degree. Not sure that she cared enough to even try. Halfway around the world and she still had no answers to questions she didn't know how to ask. Living in paradise had not clarified anything for her.

Her friend Lanie was to blame for her current circumstances. They had met through friends of friends at a party in high school. Lanie was ambitious, just like Kate had been when the only problem in her life was which boy to date and how to avoid her parents when sneaking out at night. She had been so naïve. So innocent about the dark world in those days.

Kate was going to be the first female Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Lanie had already decided she wanted to be a medical examiner, and had planned out her life over the next decade already: college, medical school, residency. They'd kept in touch through college, despite a distance that equaled the continental United States: Kate in California, while Lanie attended Cornell. After Johanna's death, Kate had received an awkward call from her friend. '_Sorry your mom died_' is never easy to do over a phone.

Avoiding Lanie-well, everyone in general-after her mother's murder was a self-preservation mechanism. She could not bear to discuss the horrific depths she had sunk to with friends who had no idea what it was like to lose a parent, especially in a violent manner. Losing both parents had made her into a person who trusted no one, even people she had previously considered confidantes.

What she hadn't counted on was Lanie's persistence and determination. The woman was like a dog with a bone when it came to Kate Beckett. Hundreds of ignored phone calls on Kate's end had led Lanie to ambush her at Kate's parents' house, where she'd been trying to get her dad sober in the late summer. One look at her and Kate nearly fell apart, defenses breached by the sympathy and strength she saw in Lanie's eyes. She finally had someone to lean on just a little; someone to prop her up. It was a foreign concept to her.

When Lanie learned of her intention to enter the academy that January in order to pursue her mother's case, she had put her foot down.

"Nu-uh Kate Beckett. No way, no how you are doing that in your current frame of mind."

Kate had just glared at her and tried to cut her off, but Lanie wasn't having any of it.

"You know what you need? You need to get out of the city for a while. You need to get away from everything and figure out how to live again."

Kate turned away from her. Lanie had no idea what she needed. She needed her parents back. Going away wouldn't change anything.

"Kate, listen to me. What you're doing right now is _not_ working, girlfriend. You go through with this plan of yours and all you're ever going to be is your job. That's not a life; it's an existence."

Kate shrugged. Hunched her shoulders against the onslaught. Lanie continued, softly.

"You need to find yourself again. When you do, if the NYPD academy is still what you want, then by all means go for it. But first you are leaving this city; hell, this country if you need to. Now, tell me I'm wrong."

Kate had been getting angrier and angrier as Lanie tore into her. So angry she was visibly trembling. Lanie suddenly wrapped her in her arms, hugging her tight. It was so unexpected, Kate didn't know at first what to do. Then she found herself breaking down into tears for the first time since her mother had been murdered. She was so tired of trying to be strong, trying to hold it together.

Lanie had held her for a good twenty minutes while she finally let go of some of the heartache her parents' situations had led her to. When her sobbing had been reduced to hiccups and silent tears she sat up, face red and puffy.

"I don't know what to do, Lanie."

"It's simple, Kate. You have to either get away for a while, or start going to counselling. Maybe both. Jumping into the academy without addressing what's happened to you is a recipe for disaster. I'm serious, Kate."

"Where would I go?"

"Anywhere you want to. You have some extra money saved up, right?"

She did. A pretty good sum, honestly. Most of it from her mom's life insurance policy. She had never wanted to touch it, but perhaps getting away from the city for a while would be a gift her mom would _want_ her to have. She knew Lanie's words had the ring of truth to them. She would bury herself in the work of a cop. She _wanted_ to bury herself in the work of a cop. Uniform first, working hard to make detective. Hopefully, homicide detective in record time. And she'd live for the fight, for revenge. Not for herself, or for her own life. For the dead, and those they left behind.

"We're nearly into fall weather. Why don't you go somewhere warm for a while? The Caribbean? Or really go crazy. Go to South America or Australia. Surely there is something out there you've always wanted to do?"

"Well, I've always wanted to see New Zealand. Maybe a nice warm island beach too, like in Fiji."

"Ok, let's check it out. And don't think you're just going to blow this off. I'm going to bug you like crazy until you show me airline tickets and an itinerary."

Kate couldn't help but laugh a little at that. Her friend truly knew her too well. So, she had done some research. Then bought tickets for New Zealand.

She had arrived in late October. It was a breathtaking country. Yet everywhere she went she couldn't help but imagine how much her mother would have loved the sights as well. It had been lonely trekking around by herself. She was too introverted; too wrapped in her own misery to attract any company. She'd been hit on occasionally, of course. She knew men found her attractive, even wrapped in a miasma of grief. But she had absolutely no interest in a relationship now; even a one night stand was out of the question. She was too dead inside to tolerate the necessary words one needed to use to establish any type of relationship. Fleeting as it might be.

She'd left New Zealand for Australia. Seen kangaroos, wallabies, and koalas. But she still felt like she had a gaping hole in her soul that separated her from normal people. Happy people. It was though all the scenery had a pall cast over it; the colors less saturated, less vibrant than they should be. Her blackness sucked light from everything and everyone around her.

With two more weeks open until her return to the States, she had decided to look for a nice beach to spend time on. Perhaps laying in the sun soaking up the solar radiation like a reptile would simultaneously warm her heart an iota or two.

Australia had some lovely beaches, which almost distracted her enough to forget the pain of celebrating her birthday without her parents. Beaches coupled with plenty of alcohol let her forget most of the day she turned twenty years old. Yet it wasn't enough. The sheer size of the country and number of tourists should have helped her in her quest to lose herself, but instead she ended up feeling even more vulnerable than ever.

That's when she had decided to head somewhere smaller. Fiji had been a temptation, until she saw a brochure for French Polynesia. Tahiti sounded so exotic, and having some ability with French made it all even more romantic. Not that she wanted _actual_ romance; she just wanted to find a magical place that might heal some of the hurt that was still so raw almost one year later.

She did feel marginally better on the island than she had anywhere else. It was so beautiful, the people so open and friendly. But she was still an outsider. Not tied to anyone, no one to care about her, and no one for her to care about. The loneliness seemed overwhelming at times; the gloomy shade just as black whether cast by a palm tree or a New York skyscraper.

The only bright spot that drew her out of her shell was the discovery of a local coffee shop near the cheap _pension_ where she was staying. Owned by a wonderful couple, Hoanui and Puaura Temaru, she had become a fixture there every morning. Both proprietors had taken an interest in her, plying her with different types of coffee to try; trying to cajole her out of the obvious depression she was mired in.

It was through conversations with them that she'd first had the idea of traveling out to some of the surrounding islands. Maybe seeing how people lived a meaningful life despite living far from what most would consider the civilized world would be the salve she needed.

Unfortunately, most of the passenger fares on the innumerable sailboats that plied the French Polynesian seas were much higher than she wanted to pay. She still had to get back to New Zealand, to use her return ticket. That's when the Temarus had come to her rescue. They'd suggested a cargo boat called the _Iriata_ that would take passengers much more cheaply. They were friends with the captain, Anapa. When they told her about Hina, his wife and a busy native healer, she was fascinated. It could be a great opportunity to see the culture of the islands up close.

They had learned the _Iriata_ had come into port the previous night. After getting directions from the Temarus, she headed to the docks mid-morning. They had warned her that the boat might be empty, but she had nothing else to do. She would wander around the fascinating port for a while if she couldn't locate anyone on the _Iriata_.

She had found it without too much trouble. French was the official language in the islands, and her language skills in that tongue were fairly good. Not as great as her Ukrainian and Russian, but enough to get the point across and discover what information that she needed.

The _Iriata_ was not a very attractive boat at first sight. A mottled blue hull spoke of a paint job in the remote past, now marred by splotches of rust. She wasn't a sailboat, and seemed quite squat and ungraceful compared to the sleeker outlines of her kin. Yet Kate could tell she was neatly kept; nothing that she could see out of place, though she was no expert by far.

The front of the boat had a slightly raised deck; she couldn't see it over the raised hull, but there were two visible ladders on either side of the boat that accessed that area. They only had five or six rungs; it wasn't a huge difference in height, but it was definitely present.

A long column rose out of this upper deck and terminated in what appeared to be a crane mechanism. This arm hung over the cargo holds that took up most of the middle of the ship. She couldn't see if they were empty now or not, as she didn't have a great view of them from the dock.

At the back of the ship rose a structure that she assumed held the cabins and cockpit of the boat. There appeared to be three levels to it. She figured if anyone was on the rusty old boat, they would most likely be found back there.

She couldn't see anyone on the decks, so ventured a few hellos, eyes glued to the back of the boat. Despite shouting several hellos without response, she thought perhaps she wasn't loud enough to penetrate the quarters in the back. She knew it would likely be bad manners to just clamber aboard, so decided to shout a bit louder before giving up. Hope at finding someone began to flag after the third or fourth louder shout, and she was about to turn and make her way back up the dock when she heard a deep male voice above and behind her.

"Can I help you?" His voice sounded somewhat amused. It was an American voice, and to her shock he sounded like a New Yorker.

She turned to face him, but could barely make out any features as he was standing in line with the morning sun in the sky. She could tell he was tall, but not much else. He was standing on the boat in the front part; an area that she would never have expected to find a crewman, though in reality she knew next to nothing about boats.

"Hello. I was wondering how much you all charged for passengers. I was told you sometimes take passengers as well as cargo on your runs to the other islands. Also, I'd like to know where you're going next."

He was silent, stone still: just staring at her. She was confused at first. She'd heard him speak English without any foreign accent. Surely he'd understood her. She tilted her head to one side, trying to see him better. Suddenly it hit her; he might speak English as a first language, but he might not be bright enough to really understand her. He probably was a bit simple. She resolved to speak more slowly to him, hoping he might understand.

"Do you take people to other islands? Where is the next island you go to?" She made some gestures along with her voice and enunciated slowly and clearly, hoping he'd catch on. She looked at him expectantly. He still didn't answer. Sighing, she decided she would have to come back later today and try to find the captain himself. There certainly wasn't a way to leave a message with this oaf for the captain. Perhaps she could write a note and leave it?

Unfortunately, she had no pen or paper. There might be someplace to borrow something, but she wasn't sure where to leave it. The man had spoken to her, but as soon as she had looked directly at him he seemed to lose all power of speech.

She felt a little bad for him, and curious how an American with somewhat limited mental facilities had ended up working on a boat in the South Pacific. He appeared to be capable physically; while she could not see details of his face due to the silhouetting of the sun, what she could see of his body looked quite fit and muscular. That was sure to be an advantage on a ship. Perhaps this was the only job he could perform.

She would have to come back; there was no hope here. Oh well. Not like she lacked time. She had nothing but time. She just hoped if she did end up on this boat that he wouldn't just stand and stare at her like he was doing now. It made her uncomfortable and she wondered if he acted this way with all women, or just those who were English speaking, like him.

Resolving to come back in the afternoon if she couldn't find any other cheap passage, she turned and walked away. She felt a little sorry for the simple man, though a bit unnerved at how he'd stood staring so baldly at her. The ever shifting scenes of the port soon drew her attention, and she nearly forgot about the entire encounter. She had no way of knowing she'd just walked away from the man who would soon become the most important person in her life.

* * *

March, 2010

Rick looked up from the keyboard he'd been pounding industriously. "How much time do we have left?"

"Maybe another half hour. They're fairly lenient for a first time meeting. We'll be pushing our luck, and garnering unwanted attention, if we draw it out though," Afaitu replied.

"Well, this is just the beginning. Of ten years. How am I supposed to write this story if we have such limited time for our meetings?" Rick snapped, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He just wanted to make sure Kate was safe, that he found her first. It would take forever to do what Afaitu wanted him to do if they could only meet for a few hours a day. He could only type so fast.

"I don't suppose you have access to a pen and paper?"

"Well, sure. Most of the prisoners spend a lot of time writing their families."

"So writing isn't a suspicious activity?"

"Not usually. Depending on what you're writing I suppose." Rick wasn't clear where this discussion was going. Surely a lawyer knew that anything a prisoner wrote and sent by mail was subject to being read by the authorities. One of many reasons he'd never bothered to write anyone. He was certain _his_ letters would be shredded before they got to the mailbox.

"How do you spend your days?"

"Watching my back. Reading."

"Not writing?" Afaitu was surprised. The man _was_ an author after all.

"No. To what end? They can read anything I write."

"Ah, but you have all these hours just sitting around. We need to take advantage of them."

"How?" Rick was skeptical, to say the least.

"Have you ever invented your own code?"

Rick considered the younger man for a minute. Afaitu had sincerity pouring out of his eyes. As Rick considered what the lawyer was suggesting, he realized that while there were some risks, the advantage if it worked would be worth it.

"I invented a code when I was a teenager. Wrote several stories in it while I was in a boarding school whose headmaster was less than impressed with my literary efforts."

"This would be the same concept. I need you to type out the key on the laptop and then you'll be able to spend your copious spare time writing your story."

"Do you really have time to sit around and decipher it?"

"Honestly, no. But Tamahere has nothing else to do and he wants to help. I'll give it to him and he can type it up while he deciphers it."

For the first time since he'd been set adrift on a boat that had carried him far from the love of his life, Richard Rodgers smiled.

"You know, I think this is going to work. When will you come back?"

"I'll be back tomorrow. No one will question a lawyer who is meeting with a new client frequently. If they do, we'll just tell them you're preparing a new will or something."

Rick got started typing out the code. It was a letter substitute, though it changed depending on the paragraph. Not foolproof, but not simple to crack and easy enough to decipher with the key.

"What if they are suspicious of my interest in writing?"

"You're a writer. It's what you do. Most of the guards and personnel here speak French and Tahitian only. They probably won't recognize that it's random words in English, and if they do just tell them you're trying out different ideas for a sci fi story or something. Their eyes will glaze over before you finish your sentence. These are prison guards; they aren't high on intellectual pursuits."

Later that night, Rick looked out of the large, barred window that was the only source of fresh air in his cell. Standing just under it, neck craned awkwardly to see beyond the overhang of the floor of cells above his, he could just make out the full moon shining its silvery rays down onto Earth. He wondered if she was looking up at it at the same time he was. As he clutched the papers tightly to his chest, the start of the rest of their story scribbled out on the loose sheaf, he prayed with all his might that she was ok. That _they_ were ok. That his love was still felt, even though they were separated. That she hadn't given up on him. And most of all, that Rick or one of his new friends would be the first to find her.

* * *

**Information about the NYPD academy is from www dot nyc dot gov/html/nypd/html/police_academy/police_academy dot shtml. As always, replace the dot with a .**

**Fanfic dot net rules about hyperlinks are a bit nuts, IMO. **

**If you're interested in reading a story with a white-hot supernova of sexual tension, then be sure to go find my friend ****Garrae's**** new fic, What's Love Got to Do With It? It's unbelievable, though I recommend access to a cold shower or ice bath before you start it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter is dedicated to wolfergirl. She responded to my twitter plea regarding help with oceanic navigation and general boat knowledge. I have none: she agreed to help. I had made several mistakes in my assumptions while reading about ships and navigation; she very helpfully corrected them. Thank you so much for reading my initial stab at describing it all, and for teaching me what I needed to know to get it closer to reality.**

* * *

March 2010

When Afaitu returned the next day to meet with his new client, he was a bit shocked at how many papers Rick handed him, covered in his writing.

"You did all this last night?"

"And this morning. Not much else to do."

Afaitu looked closely at the man. He seemed lighter somehow. As if writing the story out had helped ease the burden of grief he was carrying. Or perhaps it was the feeling that he was finally able to do something proactively to help find Miss Beckett; to help himself.

"Ok, I'll take these to Tamahere tonight. He's pretty excited about reading what happened to you and helping free you."

"Do you have any ideas on that end? Ones that won't reveal that Kate is still alive?"

"Yes," was Afaitu's terse reply.

"Care to share?"

"Not yet. I'm working it through in my head. Once I have a better idea I'll let you know."

"Ok. In the meantime, I'll keep writing."

"That's the most valuable thing you could do right now. I won't be back for a couple days, so when I return I expect you'll have a novel waiting for me, if this what you can do in a day," he exclaimed, waving the papers covered in Rick's cipher before placing them in his briefcase.

"Be careful what you wish for," Rick rejoined. There was a lilt of humor in it, the first Afaitu had heard him use. It was one more positive sign.

* * *

That night, after driving randomly around Mo'orea for a solid hour, Afaitu pulled onto a dirt road that disappeared into the jungle. He pulled his car in just far enough that no one would see it from the road, then got out and waited. Tamahere ghosted his way out of the thick underbrush and took a copy of the flash drive and the loose papers that Rick had written his story on.

"How is he doing?" He was dying for news of his friend. He wished he could see him in person, but knew that was impossible at the moment.

"Better, I think. When I told him your message he was visibly moved. I think he's felt very alone and very scared for most of this ordeal. Writing seems to have been cathartic for him. Though I imagine if we can't figure out what to do he'll slip back into a depression."

"Then we'd better think of something."

"Let's start with understanding exactly what happened; only then we can start planning what to do. Call me tomorrow when you've finished."

"Will do," replied Tamahere, already walking back through the brush. He'd found a small house to rent on the island. Paid in cash, using his assumed name. It wouldn't keep them from finding him, if they were looking. But it wasn't an obvious neon sign to what he was really up to either. At least he wasn't on Tahiti, which he figured would raise all kinds of red flags. Mo'orea was close enough to Tahiti to be convenient, but far enough away he thought they'd ignore him.

* * *

Reaching his house, Tamahere paused only to make some coffee while firing up his laptop. One thing about receiving a government payoff for years was that he had no lack of funds. And while he had always hated spending the blood money in the past—feeling guilty over its presence in his life—he had no such compunctions now. He would be happy to use any means he had to free Hopo and find Kate. There was a certain delicious irony when he considered the source of his funding and its use now.

He sat down, steaming mug in hand, and read through the first two chapters Hopo had typed up for Afaitu. Then, calling up the key, he set to translating the papers, unveiling the subsequent chapters. It was a fascinating story. He'd lived through it all, but his perspective was quite different from Hopo's and Kate's, of course.

He marveled at the detail Hopo had brought to the tale, though of course he _was _a writer. This was no mere rehash or summary of their ten years together. It was their story, told by a man with the ability to ensnare the interest of others by the use of words to reveal thoughts and feelings, evoking a response far beyond what simple black type on a white background should engender.

Hopo's words were simultaneously a love story as well as a weapon against those that had betrayed them. As he typed it out, Tamahere wondered what the world would think of their actions so long ago. This would likely become the definitive accounting. He hoped he would be remembered for what he was doing now and not for what had happened back then.

* * *

November 1999

Stunned into silence by the vision in front of him, she walked away from him before he understood what she was asking. Shaking his head, Rick couldn't figure out what had happened. He had been around plenty of beautiful women; had his share. Bestselling author in his early twenties tended to bring them out of the woodwork in droves. Plus he was a good looking guy. But for some reason she had somehow driven all rational thought from his brain.

She was out of earshot by the time he recognized that she was indeed looking for a passage. Anapa would be disappointed. However, Rick thought it might be for the best, given his unusual reaction to her. Close quarters on a ship would be torture.

The interruption soured his mood for writing, so he decided to wander around, get some other things done until his head cleared. He whistled at Gaston again, then walked down the pier to an area where men wanting crew work often gathered.

"_Toute cuisiner_?" The interested looks he'd been getting dried up quickly. Many of the men were willing to crew for a time but few would cook. It was not a popular job. One man kept looking over at him though. He was young looking, seemed fit and strong enough to do some loading or unloading as well. He had scruffy clothes and long greasy hair. Rick didn't think he looked especially trustworthy, but it would be up to Anapa if he wanted to take him on. Many shady characters straightened their act out when they found they were dealing with the legendary captain.

Frustratingly, the guy would not approach him or make direct eye contact with Rick. Maybe he wasn't really interested and Rick was misreading him. Rick eventually turned away with a growl of frustration. It was sometimes really hard to find help in the islands; men that could be trusted in taking a shift alone on the boat were in scarce supply. Most of his present co-workers were related to or the sons of friends of Anapa and Hina. Strangers in Papeete could be a crapshoot.

He started walking back to their slip. About ten steps later he heard someone following him. A tiny grin graced his visage; he waited a few more steps before asking:

"_Que voulez-vous_?"

"Job. I cook."

Rick stopped, looked the man over. He was young; younger than him. This wasn't a concern, as most island boys grew up knowing how to move about the ocean safely. They didn't have to learn the tricks that Rick had to; it was intertwined in their DNA.

"Ok, come with me. The Cap'll be back soon, you can meet him."

The young man nodded in agreement and they set out for the _Iriata_ together.

Rick showed the young man, whose name was Tane, where he could wait while Rick busied himself with some of the never ending work that comes aboard a ship: splicing lines, repairing some chains, repainting an area that had been gouged down to metal, etc. Rick had learned how important even small details could be; in the middle of a crisis, having a frayed rope might bring on doom. Anapa and the other crewmen had taught him well. He might not have been born to the sea, but he'd worked hard to learn, and was reliable and honest in all of his dealings with the others. He felt like he had achieved the polar opposite of his persona before he had come to the South Pacific.

Some of the other crewmen had initially objected to the presence of a _marite_, or an American, who knew nothing of ships being part of the crew. They had all come around (more or less) eventually. Rick's bubbly and friendly natural personality had won them over to some degree. He was generous to a fault at times as well, and all the members of the crew could now think of at least one story (or more) in which Rick had helped them out of a scrape.

He cherished his time at sea; it was peaceful most of the time, yet covert danger lurked all around them. The ocean was a fickle mistress, and he had learned how to judge her mood from a master: Anapa couldn't remember a time in his life when he had not spent at least part of his day in the caress of her waves.

The sound of a Polynesian sea chant sung at full volume announced his captain's presence on the dock approaching the _Iriata_. Rick moved to the gangway to greet him; the young man he'd found to replace their cook trailed behind and tried to look as presentable as possible.

"Hopo, good news, good news. This is going to be a great cargo run for us. Lots of fun."

Rick nodded. Anapa was usually excited by any run that took them out into the more remote islands; he assumed from how happy Anapa was that this was going to be a long run.

"Captain Anapa, this is Tane; he's applying to be our cook."

Anapa peered at the scruffy young man and nodded slowly, greeting him in Tahitian. "_Ia ora na_. I'll talk to you next. Hopo, they'll be bringing part of the cargo to start loading within the next hour or two. We get the rest and the passenger tomorrow, on Mo'orea."

Rick was startled, remembering the beautiful woman from earlier in the day. Could she be the passenger? Yet she had sought passage here in Papeete. Why would she then take a ferry to Mo'orea? Well, there could be reasons, though he hoped Anapa was referring to someone else. That woman would be trouble, he was certain.

"Mo'orea? Are we going to be hopping around the Societies?" Rick had learned that French Polynesia was composed of multiple island groups. The Society Islands were the heart of everything, with islands such as Tahiti, Mo'orea, and Bora Bora included in the group. However, there were multiple other groups, such as the Marquesas, Tuamotu, Gambier, Bass islands and the Australs. Altogether, there were more than 100 islands, though not all were inhabited by anything other than birds and small animals.

"_Aita_," Anapa denied. "We're taking a relative of Pierre Grollet out to Raivavae. Name of Henri Grollet. Just got here from France, and he'll be on Mo'orea with the last of the supplies he needs for a new agricultural business."

Rick was excited by the news. Raivavae was known to be very beautiful and one of the wildest appearing islands, with an emerald green lagoon and mountain slopes covered in ferns. It was an island he had yet to see. Over 630 kilometers from Papeete, it was a bit of a haul.

"He's helping set up a new farm there, so we're taking a bunch of supplies for their homesteading efforts. And chickens. Did I mention the chickens?"

Rick made a face. Hauling livestock was messy business for any run; chickens were especially loathsome to him. The smell in the cargo hold with chickens was almost more than he could take.

"How many?"

Anapa gave his younger friend a big grin. "_Maha 'ahuru_." Then laughed hysterically at Rick's face. Rick wished he hadn't learned enough _reo tahiti_ to know this meant forty chickens. Forty. God help them, the smell would be overwhelming.

"Have you checked the weather? I saw Rahiti today and he said there was a tropical depression down by the Australs."

Anapa nodded. "_E_, yes, it's east of where we'll be headed. We'll need to watch it though."

Anapa then took Tane up to the galley to discuss matters of employment while Rick returned to his busy work. He would have more time to write tonight; for now there were plenty of odd jobs to keep him busy.

Within an hour their open cook position had been filled by Tane, who then disembarked to make arrangements on land for his upcoming absence. The rest of the crew had returned, as expected, and were told of the long run with various reactions. They mostly preferred short hops among the Societies. Staying fairly close to Papeete meant they could enjoy the creature comforts of home more often. Nor did any of them want to take care of chickens in the hold. They were good men though, and all adored Anapa and Hina. They'd do anything for those two.

* * *

An hour later the cargo started arriving. With the assistance of the crane, and a lot of hard work, it was all quickly stored away, balanced carefully in the hold. The majority consisted of pallets with barrels of seeds, but there were also fruit tree seedlings and a bunch of tools. Then there were the chickens. They took up an entire hold; the cover would be a mesh net for ventilation, instead of a hard cover. One hold was left empty for the last of the load they would pick up on Mo'orea.

By the time everything was safely secured Rick was filthy, hot and sweaty. Glancing at the afternoon sun, he was excited to see he'd have plenty of time to enjoy a free evening. The breeze was perfect, driving away a bit of the tropical heat and the sky was that perfect shade of blue he had come to associate with the South Pacific. He was looking forward to getting off the boat for a hot shower. There was a local boarding house that he liked to stay at when he was in port and not expected to stay on the ship. He had already bid Anapa farewell and was about to step on the gangplank when he heard his name being called. Turning back to face the stern and the person hailing him, he saw Ari'i, the first mate.

"Hopo, I forgot to mail this letter to my family. Are you going to the post?"

Rick was planning on finishing his final chapter for his first Derrick Storm novel that night and sending it to Black Pawn before they left port. He had his waterproof bag that housed his paper and pens on his shoulder. He took the letter, quickly stuffed it in the bag with his papers, and bid the older man _nana, _goodbye in Tahitian.

He turned sharply, his only thoughts on disembarking and grabbing a hot meal. As he moved, a soft and slightly squishy object rammed into him. Before he could register what was happening, he reached out instinctively and steadied the offending entity, which subsequently emitted whoosh that was followed immediately by an indignant, sharply indrawn breath.

Fortunately, the object was light and easily put back upright by his hands, which were still firmly attached to the other body. And he quickly realized it _was_ a body when he heard a muffled yelp followed by a stinging slap on his face. Not at all the thanks he expected after saving someone from falling backwards down the gangway.

Looking down he realized several things simultaneously. One, it was not a guy. Two, he was still latched on to the body part he'd grabbed. Three, it was not just any body part; it was her chest. Four, it was the woman who'd been on the dock earlier that day. And five (most important of all), she was not happy with his current hand placement. Oh, and one more thing. Six, she was absolutely far more gorgeous up close than she was twenty feet below him.

* * *

Kate had wandered around looking for other options after her less than satisfying meeting that morning at the _Iriata_. Unfortunately, the sailing boats that specialized in passengers were far out of her league and the cheaper ferries were very crowded.

She was trying to escape from reminders of all that she had lost; being surrounded by happy families was not in her playbook. Knowing that the Temarus had a high regard for the captain of the _Iriata_ had brought her back that afternoon to see if he was available.

There seemed to be a lot more activity, both on board the _Iriata_ and on the surrounding vessels this time around. She could hear indistinct male voices talking on the deck, though she could not see any people directly.

She tried hailing the vessel from the dock again, but no one seemed to hear due to the cacophony of noises in general. Determined to try and find a passage, she decided to go aboard the boat, despite not having permission to board, and find someone who could point out the captain. She wasn't sure if walking up the gangway uninvited was rude, but if she were willing to pay for a passage they would surely overlook any accidental transgressions.

She had just reached the top of the plank and was stepping onto the boat when a solid mass knocked into her. She felt herself start to fall and pin-wheeled her arms, trying without success to maintain her balance. Suddenly, she was brought back to her feet when something caught her chest and pulled her upright again. When she realized she was safe, she looked up to see what had happened. A large, very dirty man was clutching her boobs. Hard. He was strong, that was certain, as he had handled her like a rag doll. While she appreciated the rescue from a fall, she did not like being groped by a stranger. His stranglehold on her chest seemed to have no end. She was not a life preserver, but his grip on her reminded her of a man drowning: clutching the only thing he could find. She reached up and slapped his face in rebuke.

"Get your hands off me, you ape!"

He released his hands immediately then stood silently gaping at her. She recognized him now that she'd had a chance to look at him. It was undoubtedly the man from earlier. Up close she could see he was rather tall, with piercing blue eyes and wavy brown hair. His well-trimmed beard prevented her from seeing the rest of his face, but it gave him a rakish air. He had a very tanned and buffed body under all the dirt and grime; she could appreciate that even more now that they were so close to each other. He looked familiar, but she wasn't sure why. He didn't look like anyone she knew.

He remained silent and she suddenly was reminded of their encounter earlier. He understood her; he'd spoken flawless English. Yet he seemed to have trouble keeping up with a simple conversation. He really must be quite slow-witted. Still, that didn't give him the right to molest any women he might run into.

"Just what do you think you were doing?"

"I was…I was…I was trying to leave the boat."

"Well, here's a tip for you: women don't like it when you just reach out and grab their chests."

He stood stock still for another few seconds and she was revising her previous conclusion from 'slow-witted' to 'complete oaf' when he visibly relaxed and gave her a small smile.

"I'm not used to having to rescue women from falling down in my presence."

Looking in his eyes now she could see the obvious spark of intelligence. He was definitely not simple. And while their unusual meeting had initially startled him speechless, he had quickly recovered his wit.

"I guess I have to remind you that you were the one knocking me down before you groped me."

"_Au contraire_. I was distracted by a shipmate as I was leaving the boat, and when I turned around it was _you_ running into _me_. I merely saved you from certain injury. Whether _just_ to your pride or simply to your lovely body we'll never know. I would be happy to examine you for any bruising I may have accidentally caused." He smirked, confident in his ability to charm almost any woman less than forty years old.

Now it was Kate's turn to be speechless. She had made the mistake of underestimating him. This man was capable of matching wits with her; that was obvious. She felt a slight pull of attraction to him and tried to tamp it down. He had an incredible body, true, but his ability to spar with her verbally was just as attractive. She hadn't met anyone in a long time, maybe ever, who could really keep up with her.

She sternly reminded herself she wasn't here for an ill-fated love affair. She was determined to find a passage on the boat, although the non-monetary price might be too high if her response to this man was any indication. Yet, as a crewman, they were not likely to be in each other's presence often. She pressed on.

"I'm looking for the captain. Do you think you could manage to tell me where he is without accosting me again?" Her tone was sharp. She couldn't let him think she enjoyed talking to him.

He might have flushed, though it was hard to tell under all the dirt. "Yes, Captain Anapa is on the bridge."

She was discombobulated from their encounter and turned the wrong way. However, instead of tapping her on the shoulder and redirecting her, he simply cleared his throat. It was her turn to flush when he simply pointed with one hand where she should go; she got the message that he hadn't wanted to touch her and have his action misconstrued.

"Thank you." She was trying to be polite, embarrassed at her own sharp words. There was no doubt he had some fault too; her left boob in particular was still protesting its rough handling. The man's hands were strong.

"Take the stairs to the top deck. That's the bridge." He then proceeded to start down the gangway without waiting to see if she needed anything else. Shaking her head, she strode off, concentrating on finding the captain and seeing if she could afford his price.

When she reached the structure that rose out of the back of the boat, she saw the stairway that ran up the side and climbed to the top as the man had suggested. She found the bridge, which was the third level. It took up the entire deck. There was a ship's wheel in the center, with a long counter in front of it and windows that ran the length above them. She had a very good view of the boat and surrounding docks up here.

The only other person on the level was an older man, with the evidence of years at sea written in the wrinkles of his skin. He had white hair and was short; shorter than she was, though she was tall for a woman. He was clearly strong and wiry and had a kind air about him.

"Hello." She gave a little knock on the doorframe at the same time. "Are you Captain Anapa? I was told I could find you up here."

The man looked up from the charts he had been studying and gave her a wide smile. "_Ia ora na. Bonjour_. Both mean hello and welcome to my boat. How can I help you?"

Kate thought him utterly charming and suddenly hoped the fare would be within her reach.

"I'm Kate Beckett. I was talking to the Temarus about my wish to see some of the other islands and they told me you take passengers sometimes. I was wondering where you're going next and how much you charge for a single passenger."

"_E_, yes. I saw Hoanui earlier today and he mentioned you. He said you might like to go to some of the other Society Islands. However, we've actually gotten a cargo today for the Australs, to an island called Raivavae."

Seeing her blank look, he continued. "The Australs are much further away, though they are all part of French Polynesia. I'm afraid it will be a much longer trip. However, if you're still interested I wouldn't charge much more than a normal passage. We plan to stop at a couple islands, so you'll see more than you would from a ferry around the Society Islands."

Kate didn't really care where they went. She just wanted to get out away from the touristy vibe that Papeete had and see how the more remote islanders lived.

"Also, if you would be interested, we could employ you in some work. I would of course drop the price of the passage substantially in exchange for your assistance."

Kate had always been a hard worker. She had no idea what she could do to help them, but thought it had the potential to be an absolutely unique experience.

"I'm definitely interested. What kind of work are you thinking about? I don't know anything about sailing or boats in general."

"My wife, Hina, is a healer. She often needs help preparing treatments and carrying things. We'll be stopping along the way as we head south and east and she'd appreciate the help. One of the crew, Hopo, helps as much as he can, but he's often got other duties that need him and can't always attend to her as much as we'd all like."

Kate was intrigued. If Hina was anything like Anapa, this was going to be a fascinating tour. When he told her the price, it was all she could do to keep from shouting with joy. Finally a price she could afford, with what seemed like a great captain.

She was so excited after finalizing everything with Anapa that she rushed off the boat for the hotel to pack, due to be back on board very early in the morning so as not to miss best part of the tide. She forgot all about her concern over the oversized crewman who'd affected her so profoundly until later that evening. She wondered what had brought him, an American, to be serving on a cargo ship in the South Pacific. Perhaps he was trying to escape something from back home just like she was? It didn't matter in the end. Surely on a boat the size of the _Iriata_ they'd be able to avoid each other without too much difficulty.

* * *

**I've place a map of French Polynesia showing the Australs in relation to the Society Islands on my tumblr. Also, a picture of what the bridge of the Iriata might have looked like.**


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter is dedicated to AAR1806. One of my first supporters here on fanfiction, she has been a great person to chat to about random stuff, advice on the best Latin rock bands for me to check out, and occasional consults regarding computer issues. ****Me gusta mucho hablar contigo en español y he tenido la placer en conocerte. ****Muchísimas gracias mi amiga.**

* * *

November, 1999

Kate was up before dawn, very excited by the upcoming journey. She had packed her few belongings the night before. She had met the Temarus for dinner; they had sent her off in style. They were a very kind family and she would miss them. They had reminded her there were still a lot of kind people in the world. You just had to be willing to open your heart to them: something she still couldn't bring herself to do. Not yet.

She arrived on the dock well before the deadline Anapa had given her. She had planned to be a light traveler from the time she had left the States, knowing hostels and trekking were not conducive to taking a bunch of clothes. Everything she traveled with fit in her backpack. Really, all she had were the few clothes and the one book she had allowed herself to bring. She clutched the strap to her shoulder, wondering what kinds of adventures she would have on this boat, as she stared up at it from the dock.

"Do you need help with your luggage?"

She jumped, not having heard anyone come up behind her.

"No, this is all I have." She turned to see who the deep voice belonged to and found herself looking into the sparkling blue eyes of the man who had groped her yesterday.

"I want to apologize for grabbing you yesterday. I didn't mean to touch you…there. I was just trying to keep you from falling. You might have been seriously hurt with a fall from that particular spot, perhaps even trapped between the ship and the dock."

So, he was capable of good manners. She had little doubt he had any trouble finding female company in general. Cleaned up he looked, in a word, well…delicious. This morning he was dressed simply; a pair of jeans and a form fitting t-shirt. He had a bag over his shoulder as well. Once again she found herself inexplicably drawn to him.

"I'm Rick Rodgers by the way. We haven't been introduced, but I figured since you are joining us on this run we should know each other's names. Welcome to the _Iriata_."

She carefully shook his outstretched hand; somewhat dazed when a jolt of electricity shot through her when she touched him. What was it about this man that left her so unsettled?

"I'm Kate. Kate Beckett. And thanks. Where should I go now?"

"Anapa will be up on the bridge again. Do you remember how to get to it?"

She nodded.

"Ok, then just let him know you're here and someone will show you to your berth. It isn't much, but we spend most of our time in the saloon or on deck anyway."

She nodded briefly then started up the gangplank. Rick watched her for a minute; that had gone much better, though he had felt a spark of something when she had taken his hand. He wasn't sure what it was about her, but she unsettled him in ways he didn't remember anyone else doing. Deciding the explanation was probably due to the his nearly one year of self-enforced celibacy, he tried to dismiss it.

It shouldn't be a surprise that once he was in close quarters with a beautiful woman that he had reacted….strongly. Yet, there was something more about this woman. She held herself apart; there was a depth to her that he didn't often find in others, especially one as young as her. She looked like she was no more than twenty.

However, his focus had to be on his job. She was a passenger, pure and simple. She would take her trip, leave and that would be it. She was just a woman after all; a beautiful, marvelous and intriguing creature, yes. But a flesh and blood human with problems just like everyone else. Problems that were none of his business.

* * *

When Kate reached the main deck, she could see furious activity amongst the crew as they prepared to cast off. Mindful to stay out of their way, she made it to the bridge without any incidents.

Anapa was speaking to a woman who, remarkably, was smaller even than he. She was equally wizened, but had sparkling eyes that revealed a humor and wit behind the evidence of her long life.

"You must be Kate! _Maeva_! _Manava_! Welcome aboard. It will be nice to have another woman around for a change. I am Hina, and I know you already met my husband Anapa."

"Yes, thank you so much. I can't wait to see what it is like out on the ocean and on the islands."

"Well, we'll be leaving soon. I'm afraid we had a passenger sign up before you; we're actually taking him to an island called Raivavae. He'll be staying in the main guest cabin. But there is another berth, though smaller I'm afraid. I hope that it meets your needs."

"Please, don't worry. Anapa explained the trip to me yesterday. I'm very excited about the opportunity to venture out into the further islands, no matter the accommodations. There were some ships where I was considering deck service, so just having a cabin is a luxury, no matter the size."

"Well, we spend a lot of time in the saloon. It's where we eat our meals and spend down time. Most of the crew hangs out there, though Hopo likes to sit out on the bow and write."

Kate just nodded. She hadn't been out on the open ocean before, but she imagined sitting up front and watching the beautiful azure waves would be pretty exciting.

"Let me take you on a brief tour before we get underway," Hina said, walking towards the stairs that led to the decks below the bridge.

They descended to the first two levels of the structure, where the living quarters were located. They were on two decks, with the third, and topmost, being the bridge Kate was already familiar with. On the first deck were the crew's bunk room and the saloon for meals. The galley was next door to the saloon. She met Tane there, the new cook. He seemed very comfortable in the small quarters; hopefully she would be able to enjoy some of his efforts. Kate had never been on the open water before and had no idea if she was prone to sea sickness or not.

The next deck level was where the private cabins were located; the largest was for Anapa and Hina. Then she was shown her cabin; the tiny room essentially contained just a bed on one wall and a built in wardrobe on the opposite wall, with a small open space near the floor for bulky items. There was a small window that could be opened to help with the heat that built inexorably under the tropical sun. Next door was a larger guest cabin where the original passenger, Henri Grollet, would be staying once they picked him up from Mo'orea.

Hina then showed her the _fare iti_, or heads—where the toilet facilities were—and the small shower and sink. Everything was shared among the rooms on the second deck, but this didn't bother Kate. She had known this wouldn't be a three hour luxury cruise. Thankfully, the crew had their own heads on their level.

Lastly, Hina proudly showed her the final room of this deck, which was a workshop she had created. There were a number of herbs and preparations stocked in cabinets and drawers. Since Kate had agreed to help Hina out during their trip, Hina took the opportunity to show her the basic organization of the work room. It was fascinating, and Kate was very excited to start learning more about everything.

Hina suggested they move up to the bridge once she was done showing Kate her workshop. There they would be able to watch the crew making all the necessary preparations to get underway. They stood quietly behind Anapa, the view from the large windows in front of him captured the entire front of the ship forward of the bridge. It was a commanding scene.

The men were quite busy preparing the mooring lines for casting off. They worked in concert, seemingly without any direction but each man knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Anapa silently watched everything from the bridge, making adjustments when needed to instruments Kate didn't understand. She saw four other men working at various points of the boat; the American among them just as busy as the rest.

"The man at the bow, the place furthest from us in the front of the ship is Tamahere. He is the youngest, one of my great nephews. He has worked with us for two years." Hina indicated a young man coiling a rope in the front of the boat where she'd first seen the American man standing.

"The older man in the middle is Arenui. He is not related to either of us, but the son of a very good friend. He has been crewing with us off and on for ten years. He is very reliable, but he has never had any ambition to do anything but sail with us." Kate could see the man she was talking about. He was taller than the other Polynesian men she had met, solid and muscular like most of the crew seemed to be.

"The man near him is Ari'i. He is from Marquesa, which is why his tattoos are so prominent. It is their custom. He is the first mate and has been saving up to buy his own boat. He's been with us for six years." The man in question had tattoos covering his face, arms, and the part of his trunk that she could see. It was an impressive sight.

"And finally, the white man just below us is Hopo. He's only been with us about a year, but he's learned a lot."

Kate's mouth had dropped open. "That's Hopo? I thought his name was Rick. He introduced himself to me as Rick Rodgers."

Hina smiled, almost mysteriously. "Rick Rodgers? That is his given name. My husband gave him a _ma'ohi_, or Polynesian, name as well; we call him Hopo."

"I've spoken to him. He sounds like he is American?"

"Yes, he is a _marite_, or American, like you. I believe from New York."

"That's where I'm from too. You said he's worked for you for about a year?"

"_E_, yes. My husband found him on a dock, wandering around. He offered him a job and he learned very quickly despite having no real knowledge of boats previously."

Kate wondered once more why the American was in the South Pacific. She had to admit, she was curious about him. Probably for the first time since her mother had died she was being drawn in to the story of another human being. It scared her a bit; she wasn't ready to let go of her grief yet. While not really fair to Mr. Rodgers, it did make her resent him a little; that he could have such power over her without her permission.

"I suppose I'll get to know him during the trip. You said most of the crew hangs out in the saloon when they aren't on duty?" Kate felt a little guilty fishing for information, but she needed to know when he would be someplace she was likely to be as well. Knowing his schedule, for example, would tell her when he was to be found in the saloon. She'd have to simply make herself scarce during those times.

Hina gave her a penetrating glance, as though she knew exactly why she might be asking about him. "That is true, _tiare_, with the exception of Hopo. He spends a lot of his free time up in the bow."

"What does he do up there?" It looked mostly empty to Kate, besides the structure of the crane.

"He writes in a notebook most of the time. He can be a solitary person for such an outgoing personality."

"Outgoing personality?" Kate was shocked again. While he had spoken to her this morning for a longer time than yesterday, it was by no means what she would have considered an especially friendly conversation. He had seemed to delight in making her uncomfortable, though to be fair some of her disquiet was from her own physical reaction to him.

"Oh yes. Hopo is a very kind and generous man. He overcame the biases of the crew against a _marite_, and has endeared himself to everyone."

The crew quickly sorted out everything they needed to; the cast off was smooth and the ship glided out of the dock with ease. Soon they had cleared Nanuu Bay and were in the open ocean. Hina explained that they were headed to Vai'are, Mo'orea: their first stop. It was only 17 kilometers from Tahiti to Mo'orea, which was sometimes known as the Sister Island. Once there, they would pick up their passenger, a Monsieur Henri Grollet, and the remainder of his cargo before proceeding down to the Australs.

"How long will it take us to get there?" Kate had forgotten to ask the basic question previously, just excited to be able to afford the journey.

"Our ship is a bit old. We can do around 5 knots if the weather is with us. It will take just over an hour to get to Vai'are. I would not advise leaving the boat there, as my husband will want to be away as soon as everything is loaded." Hina answered her, as familiar with the route and particulars as her husband. They had been sailing together for a long time.

As the boat made its way into the open sea, Kate began to notice the movement. Soon, she was feeling quite nauseous. Seeing her distress, Hina helped her down to the workshop and gave her some leaves to chew on.

"These will take the edge off. In the meantime, you'll do better if we get you to the bow. You need to watch the horizon and you'll soon feel better."

Kate wasn't sure she could make it to the bow by herself. The thought of crossing the open deck with the narrow walkway between the rail and the cargo holds was daunting.

Hina seemed to understand her fears. "I'll have one of the men help you out there. Come now; let's get you to the main deck."

Managing to make it to the main deck was a relief. One that was short-lived when she saw that Hina had recruited Rick Rodgers to take her to the bow.

He said nothing to her, just nodded and took her by the arm; Hina had apparently already told him what to do.

"I can try to make it there myself. You don't have to help me." She did not want to be a bother, certain he must still be busy with tasks needed for the ship.

He looked at her with an unfathomable expression. Up close to him she was drawn into the depths of his blue eyes once again. They spoke of a complexity that she did not think she had ever seen in a person before.

"You'd be lucky to make it halfway there. The motion will be getting worse as we get out to sea and you're already pretty green."

It was the truth. She was feeling more and more ill with each passing minute.

"Lead on then."

He kept his hand on her arm; a firm, but steady support in case she needed it. She was especially grateful for it when she began to get dizzy. By the time they arrived at the ladder that led up to the bow deck, she was using all of her self-control to keep her stomach contents to herself. He indicated the ladder; she just looked at him wild eyed and desperate.

"You can do it. I'll be right behind you."

It was only a few rungs, but Kate was sure she would lose control at any second. When she made it to the top, it was such a relief she nearly collapsed to the floor of the deck.

Instead, she felt a hand steadying her in the small of her back. It was a large hand, with a strength she could feel burning through her skin. He guided her to a railing, motioning for her to grab hold of it.

After she had, she felt him drop his hand. She was almost disappointed; he had felt so reassuring and comforting.

"Look at the horizon."

Hina might think of him as outgoing, but Kate had only seen the taciturn side of him so far. However, his advice was sound because when she lifted her eyes to the joining of the sky and the ocean, she did start to feel better.

"Are you chewing the leaves?"

Honestly she had forgotten about them. She had slipped them into a pocket after Hina had given her a few to try. She brought them out now and placed them in her mouth. They were dry and bitter.

"Don't swallow them. Just keep chewing on them, and if you need to you can spit over the side of the rail."

He started to move away and she panicked a bit at the thought of being left here alone.

"Where are you going?"

"Not far. I'm just going to get my notebook and pen."

True to his word, he returned in less than a minute: he usually kept the supplies at the bow since he preferred to write out here anyway. He used a waterproof bag to store them in, and kept that in one of the waterproof boxes that was located in the bow. No one else came up here much, so he was usually left alone.

He sat down with his back against the large, smooth column that rose up to form the crane. Kate was starting to feel a little better, so she took the time to look around the bow for the first time.

There was a large anchor, now resting next to the chain drive that let it run out and brought it back in; this was near the very front. There was a raised platform behind it, upon which rested a large lifeboat. The crane column made up the last of the deck, with ladders to either side to get down to the main deck.

"So you sit up here a lot?" She remembered what Hina had said earlier. She was curious about this man. Every time she thought she had figured him out, a new layer appeared.

"Quite a bit of the time, when I'm off duty."

"Hina says you like to write. And you keep a notebook and pen up here, so you must write quite a lot."

He looked up at her. She was leaning against the rail now; still clutching it, but much less green than when she had come out to the bow.

"I do write quite a bit. You seem awfully curious about what I do for a woman who slapped me just yesterday."

She flushed visibly. "Well, you did paw my chest."

"I was keeping you upright."

"I'm pretty sure you could have used another leverage point to save me from falling. Even though it was your fault I was knocked down."

"We're going to have to agree to disagree then. I reacted on pure instinct; I had no idea you were there. You were lucky I was able to grab ahold of anything. Luckily for both of us you have some…assets…that allowed me to save you. They're very nice assets by the way. Lifesavers, if you will." He smirked, clearly pleased with his cleverness.

She stared at him, getting angrier by the minute. He actually thought he had done her a favor by molesting her chest!

"You know, I was just trying to make conversation. If I had known my _assets_ were going to be discussed I would never have agreed to come out here in the first place. You may have Hina and Anapa fooled, but so far I've seen nothing more from you than boorish behavior. No wonder you're hiding in the South Pacific."

"What does that mean? I'm here by choice. Why would you say that?" Now it was his turn to get angry. Did she know who he was? Was she press? God, what a disaster that would be. He'd managed to conceal his true identity for so long.

"Nothing except you clearly can't behave in civilized company. Do me a favor, stay away from me."

She stalked off to the ladder nearest her side of the deck and clambered down, a bit more awkwardly than she would have preferred.

"No problem. I wouldn't want to disturb your delicate sensitivities with my oafish manners." The last was shouted at her as she stomped across the main deck back towards the stern.

He didn't know why she could make him so angry. Or why he had said some of the things he did. Nevertheless, it was probably for the better. The less time he spent with Kate Beckett the better off he would be.

* * *

**There is a picture of a typical Marquesan man, a man who might resemble Ari'i on my tumblr. All of the Polynesians used the art of tattoo, but the Marquesans really embraced it. **

**If you're looking for a fic about what led Rick to be a mystery writer and fills in his backstory in a very interesting way, I highly recommend Grimoire of Thorns fic, Promises in C-minor. Really enjoying it.**


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter is dedicated to theKLF. A consistent voice of support on twitter and here on fanfiction, she agreed to read a few chapters of this story when I was freaking out about something random. I love getting good reviews from readers; it is after all the only currency we deal in here in the world of fanfic. But to get good reviews from an author as talented as she is? That's really gratifying. Thank you, my friend.**

* * *

November, 1999

Kate stomped back to the stern, fuming. The nerve of that man! Hopefully she could simply avoid him for the rest of the journey.

She went up to her tiny cabin first and retrieved the one book she had brought with her. It was tattered, spine long broken. It was her absolute favorite; reading the familiar pages was like chatting with a good friend. It never failed to comfort her, and comfort was what she was looking for at the moment. The cabin was quite warm, and made her stomach clench just a bit. Most of her sea sickness had disappeared with the magical leaves that Hina had given her, but she didn't want to push it.

She went back down the stairs to the saloon. When she had seen it with Hina earlier, it had been empty. Now there were two crewmen and the cook, Tane, sitting at a table playing a dice game of sorts.

They all looked up when she entered and greeted her. One of the crewmen stood, introducing himself.

"_Maeva, _welcome. I am Arenui. This is Tamahere and Tane. Welcome to the _Iriata_. Please let us know if there is anything you need."

Kate was charmed by the greeting. She remembered Hina had told her that Arenui had been with the _Iriata_ the longest, and that Tamahere was related to Anapa and Hina.

"Thank you so much. I was just planning to do some reading."

"Then I hope we do not disturb you. Tane has placed some water and Rotui fruit juices on the counter if you desire refreshments."

Kate looked around the saloon. Like the boat and its owners, it showed its age. Yet, it was also very comfortable looking. The main entry faced the back of the boat. There were two tables set up on one side; one sat six people, the other four. The latter was currently occupied by the men playing their game. The tables themselves were battered, and the chairs were fixed in place, presumably due to their presence on a ship.

Another door in the wall opposite to the entrance led to the galley kitchen that Tane was responsible for. There was a counter on half the wall here that was used as a sideboard. This was where the drinks were set out.

The rest of the room had various armchairs, and even a couple of recliners grouped in a rough circle. There was seating for six; not quite enough for everyone on the ship, but she supposed there was always at least one person on duty. A third door in the side wall led to the crew's room. There were bunks for them all and a small toilet room; Hina had showed her the accommodations briefly on their tour earlier.

She chose to skip the drinks for now; not yet certain her stomach was settled. She picked a comfortable looking armchair and relaxed as she read, tuning out the chatter of the men as they teased and harassed each other over their game.

Forty minutes later, a shadow fell over her. Looking up she saw that Tamahere was standing awkwardly in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Miss Kate, to interrupt. We are approaching Mo'orea and I thought you might like to see it."

"Oh, yes. Thank you. Where should I go?"

"Either up to the bridge or to the bow. It is a beautiful island with much to see."

Kate would have preferred to be in the open air, but the bow was where she had left the insufferable Rick Rodgers. She was torn.

"Wouldn't I be in the way if I were in the bow?"

"Not at all. I will be up there as we approach Vai'are. I will let you know if you need to move."

She decided that if Tamahere was in the bow as well, there was little chance that Mr. Rodgers would bother to speak to her. Mind made up, she ran up to her small cabin to return her book before picking her way to the bow. No one else was on the deck with her, she noted with a sigh of relief. She leaned on the rail, drinking in the emerald isle in front of her.

Tamahere was right; Mo'orea was magnificent. It was surrounded by a reef system and had rocky spires reaching out of the sea. As she gazed at the beautiful island, she felt rather than heard him approach her. Without even looking she knew who it was. She tensed, ready for battle once again.

"The tallest peak is called Mount Tohi'e'a, near the center. You can see it from Tahiti," he said. His voice was neutral; a tour guide relaying information, nothing more.

"It's too bad you won't see either of the two main bays. Opunohu Bay and Cook's Bay are both on the northern side. If you look at a map or a picture from overhead, Mo'orea looks a bit like a heart, with the bays as its openings. But we are going to Vai'are, which is on the eastern side of the island."

She _did_ find the information interesting. His motivation in telling her was the mystery here.

"James Michener said Mo'orea was 'a monument to the prodigal beauty of nature', and based the mythical Bali Ha'i on it. And none other than Arthur Frommer said it was the most beautiful island in the world," he trailed off. Tour guide time had come to an end apparently.

She turned halfway, stiff and unwelcoming.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I just thought you might like to know. And to prove I do have some manners." He smiled in a disarming way, and she had a sudden flash of understanding about what he was trying to do.

"Look, just to be clear, I'm here for the experience of the islands. I have no interest in you. I'm not looking for an island fling."

"I'm… flattered? However, I'm not trying to get in your pants, as pleasant as that might be. I'm here to work. And part of that job on this trip is to be nice to the passengers. Of which you are one. This is me being nice to you. So, I'll leave you on that note."

She turned, relief washing through her that he'd been the friendlier version of Rick Rodgers and that he was now leaving. Relief that was momentary when his low voice rumbled through the air once again.

"One more piece of advice."

She jerked back around.

"What?" she snapped.

He smirked, knowing he had gotten to her. "Watch the reef area closely; there's usually a ton of dolphins swimming around them."

He turned and sauntered off; once more she was left standing with her mouth open. Had she actually just misjudged him again? He was so maddening. One minute employing inappropriate double entendres then the next minute he was actually being nice. Shaking her head clear of him, she turned back to the wonderful view. When she saw the reef encircling the island she found herself following his advice. Damned if she didn't see a pod of dolphins, just as he'd predicted.

* * *

She remained in the bow after they docked in Vai'are, watching as the men swung into action to load the last of the cargo. It was an interesting process; they used the crane to swing the pallets from the dock to the open hold, then the men in the hold (Rodgers and Tamahere) secured it down. She couldn't tell what was in the pallets, but had been told their new passenger was starting a new farm of sorts.

It took about thirty minutes for everything to be moved and stowed away. The men climbed out of the hold, both quite a bit dustier than when they had gone in. The first mate, Ari'i, then gave them some more directions, which she couldn't hear. They both disappeared down the gangway while Ari'i went back up to the bridge.

They returned a few minutes later, both laden with several heavy looking trunks, and followed by a very good looking man who appeared to be in his thirties. He was small to average height, with dirty blond hair that was carefully coiffed. He was dressed casually in khakis and a white polo shirt. He was barking out directions to the men, so Kate knew he must be the man they had been waiting to join them, Henri Grollet.

She watched as the three men disappeared to the back of the boat; two struggling under the burden of the luggage, while their new passenger continued to harangue them as they went. Once they disappeared, her attention was drawn back to the village of Vai'are. She watched as the high speed catamaran that whisked passengers back and forth from Papeete came flying in. It docked, disgorging the happy tourists that were taking advantage of the close proximity of Mo'orea to Tahiti.

About ten minutes later she heard some shouting from the stern. It was Ari'i. He was directing the other crewmen as they prepared to cast off. Tamahere climbed up to the bow and gave her a nod as he went about his business. They were underway within minutes, headed back into the open ocean.

"What did you think of Mo'orea, Miss Kate?"

"It looked beautiful. I wish I could have spent some time there, but I know we were in a hurry to get going."

"Yes, Monsieur Grollet, our new passenger, seems to be in a rush over everything."

Tamahere was looking down at the main deck as he spoke. She followed his eyes and saw that their new passenger was now being led from cargo hatch to cargo hatch. At each one, Arenui and Rick would open the hatch that covered the hold so that Mr. Grollet could see inside. Each one seemed to have some fault, as he would gesticulate wildly and emphatically until Rick disappeared down the ladder. She couldn't see what he did, but it would apparently appease their passenger; that is until they reached the next hold.

Tamahere gave a snort. "I should go help. But I'm not sure I want to be around this guy much. Too bad Arenui and Hopo got stuck showing him the cargo holds."

The men below them had now reached the cargo hold with the chickens. If M. Grollet had been upset by the previous cargo hatches, he was apoplectic over the chickens. Tamahere and Kate watched as Rick disappeared into the hold while Arenui and the Frenchman argued. Well, it appeared that Arenui listened, while the other man berated him.

"Poor Hopo. I'm really glad I'm out of harm's way up here with you."

"What do you think he's mad about? How many possible ways can you stack chickens in a hold?"

"Who knows? All I know is the smell in that cramped hold is indescribable. Hopo is going to be in a really bad mood. Can't blame him."

Curious about the American, and knowing she couldn't ask the man in question, she turned to Tamahere.

"Hina said that Anapa gave Mr. Rodgers a Polynesian name. Hopo? Does it have any particular meaning?"

Tamahere looked at her questioningly. "All _ma'ohi_, or Polynesian names, have significance. My name, Tamahere, means 'the loved child'. Anapa means 'the sea sparkling under the sun', and Hina means 'the great-granddaughter'."

"And Hopo?"

He gave a bit of a wicked grin before answering her. "Hopo means 'great white albatross.'"

Kate stared at him for a second before they both burst into laughter. Unfortunately, their mirth drew the attention of Arenui, who shouted at Tamahere to come help them.

"I must bid you _nana_, or goodbye, Miss Kate. Arenui, 'the big wave', bids me to join them. Please be careful up here alone."

* * *

Kate wandered up to the second level of the superstructure about an hour later and saw Hina's workshop door was open. She approached and found Hina busy preparing a mixture of dried plants.

"Hina, may I be of help?"

"_E, _yes, of course. Sit, please." After Kate had taken a seat next to her, she continued. "This is a _nono_, which we use both for drinks and for medicines."

Kate watched and listened closely to Hina as she showed her how to prepare different plants for various conditions. Hina explained that Polynesian myths told of how plants, fruits and vegetables came from human bodies.

"For example, the 'uru,' or breadfruit. Its trunk came from the body of a man, branches and roots from his limbs, leaves from his hands, fruit from his head and the almond from his tongue. Due to the particular link with humans, the plants kept the shape of the organ from which they came from. Thus, each part of the plant is best used to cure the area of the body it came from." Hina pointed to some illustrations of a breadfruit tree in a book of the flora of Polynesia as she discussed the parts of the plant with Kate, then continued.

"Moreover, a disease is considered to be an alien fluid which introduces itself in the body of a person that broke a _tapu_, or a forbidden practice. This negative fluid is the source of an imbalance that the _tahu'a_, or priest, will have to cure. Once a cure is accomplished, both the mind and body are considered to be free of disease," she related. Kate was fascinated. It was a practice so rooted in the culture, and unlike anything she'd been exposed to in New York.

Kate spent the rest of the afternoon with Hina, soaking in as much as she could. It was a fascinating discussion, to be sure. As the light abruptly faded from the small window, Hina set her tools down.

"Ah, sunset in the South Pacific. It is quick here, due to the short distance to the equator. The sun's rays are more perpendicular, so dark falls quickly."

"When will we reach our next port?" Kate was fuzzy on the details from when Anapa had explained things earlier.

"We will go to Tupua'i next. It is the most populated of the Austral islands and the administrative seat. Then we will go to Raivavae. That is the destination of Monsieur Grollet, who you will meet at dinner. We will be in Tupua'i in about three days, if the weather holds."

"Why are we going to Tupua'i first?"

"I have some business there and Anapa is nervous that the cyclone building to the east may affect us. If it gets worse he will want to go around it and we may not get a chance to go back to Tupua'i anytime soon."

"And Raivavae is quite beautiful?"

"It is one of the most beautiful and wildest islands in French Polynesia. I cannot wait for you to see it. Now, let us put down our work for the night. Dinner will be served in about a half hour or so in the saloon. It will not be anything formal of course, but there is time if you wish to freshen up. _Mauruuru tiare_."

"_Mauruuru_?"

"It means thank you."

"And _tiare_?"

"Flower."

Smiling, Kate offered her thanks and then headed to her cabin for her bag before going to wash up in the washroom on this level. While she had conflicting feelings about the other American on the ship, she was finding the Polynesian crew to be absolutely delightful.

* * *

Rick was grumbling, but was careful to keep it to himself. He had been polite, though displeased, when he was perfunctorily ordered to carry the extremely heavy trunks of their new passenger up to his cabin. Rick had no idea what the man could have possibly packed to make them so heavy.

Then, just as he'd been ready to escape for a while and write (being off duty now that the ship was underway), he'd been caught again. Arenui had grabbed him so as not to be left alone with their odious guest. Not that he blamed Arenui; he probably would have done the same in his place. Still, it was annoying.

The man had wanted to check every cargo hold. Never mind that his precious cargo was mostly barrels of who knew what and tools; items that were nearly impossible to damage. Every hold they opened the man saw a problem. So much so, that Rick began to have serious heartburn as they approached the chicken hold.

Sure enough, as they pulled back the netting, the man had gone apeshit. His rapid fire French was too fast for Rick to understand most of it, so he had been relegated to descending into the hold while Arenui tried to calm the guy down.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with how they had secured the chickens. They had hauled livestock before; this was not his first chicken rodeo. Yet M. Grollet didn't want them stacked the way they had them. This meant Rick had to unhook each cage and reposition it. If they had been heavier crates, it would have been impossible to do while underway; too dangerous with the ship moving. Alas, it _was_ possible to do, and so he did it. Luckily, he had only moved about five of the forty when he saw Tamahere climbing down to help.

"Just in time," Rick smirked at him.

"Yeah, well I was perfectly happy watching you do all the work from the bow. Until Arenui caught me laughing at you," retorted Tamahere.

"Serves you right. Now you and I have the pleasure of doing Monsieur Grollet's bidding."

"What is his problem? I saw he made you do something to every cargo hold."

"Want my opinion?" Rick asked as he grabbed another cage, "He's an asshole. And since he's an asshole, he can't help but spread his shit everywhere he goes."

That got Tamahere laughing so hard that he had trouble standing. Which earned them a rebuke from the men above, who thankfully couldn't hear their conversation over the loud squawking of the very unhappy chickens.

Two hours and forty angry chickens later, they were done. He was filthy once more. Angry chickens have diabolical means of getting even with people who are trying to reposition their cages.

He went up to the common room to wash and change. His shift would start in another few hours, right after dinner. He just wanted a nap at this point, so after he cleaned up he climbed into his bunk and was sound asleep within moments.

He woke up fifteen minutes before dinner time. He was starving, as lunch had been a hurried affair due to their arrival at Mo'orea. He hoped Tane really knew what he was doing in the kitchen.

After washing his face, he exited the bunkroom into the saloon. When he saw that he was one of the last to arrive, he wasn't surprised. However, seeing that M. Grollet had already claimed a seat, and that it was right next to Kate brought up an unexpected surge of annoyance. Stopping to examine it, he was sure it was due to the great chicken escapade from earlier. Certainly it had nothing to do with Kate herself. She had made it perfectly clear earlier that she wanted nothing to do with him. And since he'd sworn off women and their complications, that was just fine with him.

He took an open seat near Tamahere and Arenui at the smaller table. Ari'i was still on duty, waiting to be replaced by Rick. Anapa and Hina were sitting at the larger table with Kate and M. Grollet.

Tane had carried out some of the dishes already, and Rick had to admit they smelled wonderful. He poured himself a glass of juice and one of water; he'd found he had to drink a lot more than he was used to now that he spent so much time in the sun and performing physical labor.

He nearly dropped a glass when the sniveling voice of his chicken nemesis, M. Grollet, slithered through the saloon. "Monsieur Rodgers_, Capitane_ Anapa tells me you are _américain_, just like the lovely Katherine here. Is this true?"

"I've never known Anapa to lie," was Rick's terse answer. He had told only Anapa and Hina the full reasons why he was in Tahiti; the other crewmen had no idea who he really was. He had absolutely no desire to share his story with this obnoxious man.

"Ah, that seems highly unusual, does it not? You have been working on this ship for 10 months, no?"

Rick nodded again. Fortunately, Tane came out with the rest of the meal and M. Grollet was prevented from asking more probing questions while everyone filled their plates. There was a variety of fresh fruits, as usual, and papaya chicken. For dessert Tane had prepared a _faraoa coco_, or coconut bread.

As Rick neared the end of his meal, he couldn't help but notice how much attention M. Grollet was paying to Kate. She seemed to be somewhat receptive, in the sense she hadn't slapped him so far; clearly M. Grollet was more tolerable company to her than Rick.

Ari'i called down via the intercom to ask Anapa to come to the bridge. He was worried about some weather reports. Hina went with him, and a brief silence descended on the saloon. Rick was about to grab some more _faraoa_ for later, when he heard his name being called again.

"Monsieur Rodgers, you say you have been working here for ten months. Where in America are you from?"

Rick felt he had to answer. He didn't want to seem rude, though these questions were out of line, in his opinion.

"New York."

"Ah, the city or the state? You see my dear, I have some knowledge of America as well." Grollet addressed the last of his statement at Kate, who just nodded noncommittally.

"The city."

"And were you a crewman on a boat in New York?"

"No."

"And what is it that you did?"

"I was…self-employed." That was true, more or less.

"You must not have been very successful, if you ended up on the other side of the world on an old cargo ship." Grollet tittered, clearly amused by his own wit.

Rick was annoyed, and a bit angry, at the impertinence of the man. However, he had no desire to set him straight. It would just cause more problems in the end.

"I guess not. If you'll excuse me?"

He grabbed his bread and climbed up to the bridge. His shift wasn't due to start for another half hour, but he highly preferred the company on the bridge to that in the saloon.

* * *

Kate watched Rick leave. She felt a bit guilty, though she hadn't been the one asking the questions. Her seat next to M. Grollet made her feel complicit in the thinly veiled verbal attacks. Which was ridiculous; she didn't even like the American sailor.

"He seems to have a thin skin. Makes me wonder why he is hiding in the South Pacific, eh?"

"Monsieur Grollet, need I remind you that I am also from New York _and_ currently here in the South Pacific? I am not hiding from anything. Why do you think he must be?"

"Ah, my darling Katherine, please call me Henri. We have only just met, but I feel that I have known you for some time. And I certainly want us to know each other far better. As for M. Rodgers, well, it is an entirely different scenario, no? You are here for vacation and will unfortunately soon return. Yet, he has been here nearly a year and is working as the least senior crewman on a cargo ship. I wonder if he is running from the law? Or from an unsavory relationship?"

"I think, whatever it is, it's none of my business and none of yours either. If he wanted us to know, he would have told us. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to lie down for a while."

As she walked away, she missed entirely the speculative gleam in Henri's eyes. He hated mysteries, and the American sailor presented him with the only mystery he was likely to find on this voyage. He would figure him out sooner rather than later.

* * *

**Thoughts are greatly appreciated. Thank you to all reviewers. **


	8. Chapter 8: Little Things that Matter

**This chapter is dedicated to evitascarlett. Though I do not know her personally, it was while I was reading her incredible A/U story, Apologize, that I realized how important dialogue could be. I found myself re-thinking how I wrote scenes and making an effort to include the interactions between characters as direct lines and not just a description. It is amazing how much I've learned by reading the works of great authors, and this is one example. **

* * *

November, 1999

When Rick joined the others on the bridge, he found some concerned looks.

"What's going on?"

Anapa looked up at him, gave him a tight grin.

"It's gonna get interesting, Hopo. That cyclone is moving the wrong way."

Last Rick had seen of the course, it had been well south and east of where they were headed. Now it appeared to be headed further north, which could eventually impact them. The outer bands would definitely stir things up.

"The way to Tupua'i is still clear. It will be the approach to Raivavae that might be difficult. But we're definitely going to get some bigger waves and rain bands. We'll need to make sure everything is tightened down tomorrow when we get closer to the storm."

Rick nodded. Nothing would happen tonight; they were still too far away. But they would double check everything. You could never be too careful on a ship.

"Ok, Hopo. You're on, and then Arenui will take over. Call if you hear about any major shifts in the storm."

Anapa and Hina took their leave, while Ari'i remade the schedule for tomorrow. They would all take shorter shifts the next day, due to needing to check over the ship.

Ari'i left ten minutes later, after talking to Rick for a while about how things would run if the storm got closer. Rick settled down on the bridge. He loved taking night shifts. Everyone else was below him: either asleep or hanging out in the saloon. He was alone, just the dim glow of the instrument lights to keep him company among the innumerable shimmering stars strewn across the black sky. It was a good time to reflect on his day: think about things he might want to include in his writing, or figure out a plot point that he had been struggling over.

Tonight, all he thought about the coming storm. The South Pacific doesn't have as many cyclones as there are hurricanes in the North Atlantic, but they can be just as dangerous and just as destructive. He'd been in rough weather with the ship, but nothing like a cyclone.

His shift would last until 2 am; one of the other guys would bring him some coffee before they went to bed. He'd be off until eight am as another took the last shift. Then the next day would be spent weather proofing everything as best they could. He sighed; they'd have to go back in the hold with the chickens. With heavy weather moving in, the simple net over the hold wouldn't suffice. The way Henri Grollet had made them stack them today wouldn't allow a rigid cover, so they would be forced to restack them for the third time.

By the time his relief arrived, just shy of two, nothing much had changed with the weather. He hadn't noticed any difference in the character of the waves, and radio reports were indicating they wouldn't hit rain until the mid-afternoon. He discussed his shift with Arenui and left the other man to take over. He went straight to his bunk and collapsed, knowing he would need his sleep for the long day due in the morning.

* * *

Kate awoke early, per habit. She could hear voices in the background, but they were too indistinct for her to understand any words. Not one to lie around, she got up after a few minutes and was happy to find the shower empty. After finishing her morning routine, she headed down to the saloon and found it completely empty except for coffee, bottled water, and some breakfast foods on the counter.

It was obvious that others had already eaten, though it was only seven in the morning. She grabbed a plate and ate quickly. Just as she was finishing up, Rick walked in.

"Morning." He glanced over at her before moving to the sideboard and grabbing a plate and coffee for himself.

"Good morning."

She wondered where he would sit: at the table with her, or the other where he'd sat the night before. She then wondered why she cared, before deciding that she still felt some guilt over the rude words Henri had directed at Rick the night before. She reassured herself that was why she felt so on edge around him this morning. Hyperaware of him. He was dressed in what she now knew was a typical style for the ship: shorts and a t-shirt. A very nicely fitting t-shirt. Not that she noticed in particular.

It really showed off his impressive upper body. His shoulders in particular were well developed…

"How is your sea sickness?" He put his plate down opposite of her. Ok, so same table then. And he was talking to her.

"All gone. The leaves that Hina gave me worked perfectly."

"Well, you might want to stock up." He wasn't even looking at her, directing all of his attention to his plate.

"Why?" She felt fine. Surely it wouldn't come and go on a whim?

He looked up after another bite. "We're gonna be hitting the outer bands of the cyclone to the south later today. Heavy weather means heavy waves. Make sure everything is locked down in your cabin, and once we start hitting big ones stick to the superstructure. The bow becomes really dangerous."

She nodded; she'd heard them discussing the cyclone a bit the night before, when everyone was hanging in the saloon after dinner. No one seemed too concerned, especially Henri. He felt the cyclone was too far to the south to really bother them, but perhaps they would catch a little of the weather.

"Thanks for the advice."

He shrugged. "No problem. Whole crew will be battening down the hatches today. Hina may need your help getting the workshop squared away, if you don't mind."

"No, it's not a problem. I spent the afternoon with her yesterday just learning. It's really interesting."

"Yes, she and Anapa are living treasures, at least in my opinion."

"I agree." There was a small silence. It's probably the most agreeable conversation they've ever had. She hated to ruin the moment, but she felt like she needed to apologize to him. A feeling that she hated. "I'm sorry about last night."

He looked up at her sharply. "Why are you sorry? You weren't the one talking out of turn."

True. Still, she'd sat there. Listened. "No, you're right. I just felt that it was inappropriate and I should have said something."

He looked at her with careful appraisal. "I can take care of myself. Nothing that ill-mannered, egotistical fool of a man could say bothers me."

No, except that he was upset enough to call him an ill-mannered egotistical fool. Clearly it had bothered him, at least a bit. The question was did it bother him because of the nature of the inquiries? Or because of the way they were asked?

"Well, either way I'm sorry I didn't say something. I didn't mean to imply you couldn't take care of yourself."

"Yeah, well I'm a big boy. I've run in to a few Henris in my time." He stood, draining the last of his coffee in a gulp. "Well, I have to go check in with Ari'i. See you later."

He walked out the door, leaving her to ponder if she felt better after apologizing to him or not. She hadn't decided by the time she left the saloon to seek out Hina.

* * *

Kate spent the rest of the morning with Hina. The seas were still calm, so they talked for a while about plants and preparations. Henri found them in the workshop after she had been there about two hours.

"Bonjour, Mesdames. How are you this fine morning?"

Kate simply glanced at him, still bothered by the way he had treated Rick the prior evening.

"We are well so far, M. Grollet. I trust you slept well?" Hina was, as usual, courteous and polite.

"_Très bien, merci_. I had hoped to join you for breakfast Mlle. Kate. Alas, how great was my pain when I discovered you had eaten well before I was up. You must alleviate my misery and agree to lunch with me today."

Kate had to laugh a bit at his foolish antics. He was so ridiculous, batting his eyes in an exaggerated manner and pretending he was truly hurt.

"If Hina has finished with me for lunch then I'm sure I'll see you in the saloon along with everyone else."

"Ah, then I must implore our wonderful hostess that she be sure to allow you some sustenance and not work you to death today."

"No fear of that M. Grollet. We are almost finished with lessons and then simply have to put everything up before the weather worsens this afternoon."

"Ahh, the cyclone I've been hearing so much about? I thought it was well south of our location. There is nothing to be alarmed about, _assurément_."

"Well, storms do change course. My husband tells me we should be fine, but what's the harm in being prepared?"

Henri bowed to her at that point and took his leave. Kate stayed with Hina until nearly noon. Most of the workshop was already squared away, but Hina wanted to secure some of the heavier stones and mortars she used to make some of her concoctions. Once they were finished, Kate excused herself to freshen up.

She could more acutely feel the roll of the ship. It wasn't completely unpleasant, but there was a change from the flatter sea of the day before. After she washed up, she made her way carefully down the stairs and stood on the narrow rear deck that ran around the superstructure. She could see the waves were deeper and more chaotic. It was invigorating in some ways, though she couldn't imagine what it might be like if they were even doubled in size.

When she walked into the saloon, only Henri was present. He stood upon catching sight of her and bowed.

"Ah, Katherine. I am humbled to be graced by your presence."

She shook her head. He was so full of false modesty, but it was mildly amusing.

"Well, since this is where we have lunch, it shouldn't be a surprise that my presence would be found in the saloon during lunchtime."

"Beautiful and witty. A rare combination. Please, allow me." He took her hand and led her to a seat, next to his. Glancing at the sideboard she saw that Tane was not quite ready with the meal yet.

As soon as they were seated he started regaling her with a series of humorous, though slightly ridiculous, stories about his life and that of his cousin who lived on Raivavae. Though born in France, it seemed he had lived in Tahiti for the majority of his life. He recounted tale after tale of some of the escapades that he and his cousin had gotten into. She couldn't help but laugh at most of them; many were so improbable that she was sure he was dramatizing to try and impress her. He paid close attention to her, even as the saloon slowly filled up with the crewmen of the ship.

Even though she wasn't looking at the door, she knew the minute _he_ walked in. It was ludicrous; he hadn't shown much interest in her as a woman besides leering at her boobs. She didn't think it could be guilt, after having apologized to him. Perhaps because he was the only other American? When she had a chance, she snuck a look at him. He was staring at her; as soon as he saw she was looking in his direction, he deliberately turned his back and walked to the small table. She tamped down a frisson of anger. The man could be rude. She had no idea why she also felt disappointed.

* * *

Rick spent the morning working hard to secure everything below decks. He was paired with Tamahere, who was pleasant company in general. The younger man was quick with a joke and was a hard worker. He was the crewman Rick was closest to. However, Rick liked all of his shipmates. Their companionship had made it easy for him to keep working on the ship long after he had enough knowledge to make Derrick Storm a very formidable man.

They saved the chickens for last, neither looking forward to restacking the damn birds yet again. In hindsight, that had been a mistake. As the morning passed, the waves started picking up and reordering the cages was more challenging than it would have been without the extra swell. It seemed that the chickens remembered them from the day before, or else they too were not happy about the rolling of the ship. It was, all in all, a very unpleasant experience.

Finishing up before lunch was fortunate. He was due for his shift at the helm at five today; he would have a few hours to rest before his shift. The increasing roll to the ship promised that his normally easy, undemanding helm shift would instead require him to be on his toes to keep the ship safe.

He raced Tamahere to the shower off their bunkroom. And lost. Thus, he was about the last person to the saloon for lunch. When he finally walked in, his eyes were immediately drawn to _her_. She was sitting next to the greasy Grollet, laughing at some stupid joke the other had told her.

She was so beautiful. It was impossible to deny. She had a quality to her that he just couldn't identify. She was intelligent, beautiful, but also brittle in some way. Almost as if she had suffered some major hurt or trauma. He could see it in her eyes sometimes, though she masked it well. It drew him to her, there was no doubt. As a story teller, he loved delving into a character's background. It gave voice to their motivation, even if he never ended up writing about it. He was sure Kate had a fascinating story to tell. He just didn't know if she would ever deign to tell _him_.

He realized he was staring when she looked at him. Embarrassed, and a little frustrated that she had chosen to sit with Henri yet again, he abruptly turned and walked to the small table. Tamahere was already seated and soon they were joined by Ari'i, who had been pouring himself a drink.

"Monsieur Rodgers, I see you are no worse for the wear after all the work I hear the crew has been doing today," Grollet's condescending voice filled a brief silence in the busy saloon.

Rick stifled a groan. The one person he'd wanted to avoid, of course, had to address him by name. It would be rude not to answer, though Rick seriously considered simply getting up and walking out. However, he was hungry and whatever Tane was doing in the galley smelled heavenly.

"Fortunately I had time to shower prior to lunch. I am afraid my state after we finished our labors would not have been pleasant in the enclosed room here in the saloon."

"Ah, I understand. And just what was it you were doing this morning?"

"We had to re-secure the cargo to make sure it won't shift with the heavy seas we'll be encountering soon. Then we had to rearrange the chickens in order to put a heavy cover over their hatch."

"_Oui_, my poor _poulets_. I certainly hope you have stacked them carefully. You have no idea the trouble I had to go to, in order to get them placed properly." The last sentence he directed at Kate, who did not respond in any way. "If you want something done correctly, _mon ami_, you must do it yourself."

"Strange, I don't remember him being down in the hold with us, Hopo," whispered Tamahere. Rick snorted, trying not to laugh. Unfortunately, his snort brought M. Grollet's attention even more firmly upon him. The other man had just opened his mouth to retort when Kate distracted him by asking a question that Rick couldn't hear. The odious man glared a moment longer at him, then physically turned his back to him and gave Kate his undivided attention. The meaning was clear, even without any words.

Rick was inordinately relieved when Tane finally brought out the rest of the meal. He didn't think he'd ever eaten so quickly. He finished before anyone else and excused himself. Despite his exertions from the morning, today when he lay down in his bunk sleep was a long time coming.

* * *

Kate went back to her cabin, intending to grab her well-worn book and return to the saloon. She didn't think reading in the tiny confines of her cabin would be a good idea; the pitch and roll of the ship was definitely having an effect on her rebellious stomach, though Hina's remedy gave her confidence she could handle the motion.

She had just turned around with book in hand when a small knock sounded on the frame of the door to her cabin and Henri Grollet let himself in. He closed the thick, wooden door to her cabin firmly. Too surprised to say anything, Kate simply gaped at him. The man was bold, that was apparent.

"Ah, Mlle. Katherine, please forgive the intrusion. I was hoping you would join me this afternoon. I find that I am quite at a loss as to what to spend my time doing. With the exception of yourself, and you are indeed exceptional, there is very little to offer a man of my intellect and rare tastes. Not surprising, but of course. It is a simple cargo ship after all, and I find myself realizing that I had somehow expected more from a ship with such an exalted capitaine. Nonetheless, they are sailors, are they not? They must live on and with the sea. Interests in other matters would not be necessary."

Kate was not happy about the man's temerity, but she found herself answering anyway. "I think Anapa and Hina are quite lovely. Hina has already taught me several things about useful plants and medicines. Perhaps it is not that they are too simple for you, but that you do not open yourself up to what they have to say, Monsieur Grollet."

"Please, Katherine, it is Henri. We are now friends, are we not? Perhaps you are right. However, the fact remains that most of the crew are now either on duty or sleeping before their duty. We are left to entertain each other, _oui_?"

Kate noticed he was now ogling her, openly looking her up and down. Clearly, his idea of entertainment would involve private accommodations. Such as her extremely small cabin, that barely had room for the two of them. She was fairly confident that she could fend him off; she just didn't want to have to resort to a physical altercation. Thinking furiously, she decided the priority was escaping the close quarters.

"Well, Henri, that is an interesting suggestion," she said in a low, husky voice. "However, before we discuss it further, I must beg that you excuse me. I must visit the heads before we decide just how to keep each other entertained for the afternoon."

Henri acquiesced immediately. He was too self-absorbed to notice that she took her book with her. Kate had nothing of value with her, so she didn't think twice about leaving the unctuous man in her cabin alone. As soon as the door had closed behind her, she descended the stairs as rapidly as she could and sought sanctuary in the saloon. There, she was able to relax after regaining control of her heart rate. It had been an unpleasant situation. She spent the rest of the afternoon reading, with crew passing through periodically, and Tane typically right next door in the kitchen. Henri did not reappear until dinner time and she was able to avoid sitting next to him by grabbing a seat next to Hina and Ari'i.

She planned to spend the hours after dinner in Hina's company. Lack of opportunity should soon set her presumptive fellow passenger to another amusement. She hoped.

She wouldn't notice until it was too late that the key that locked the door to her cabin was missing. It was an oversight that would alter the course of her entire life.

* * *

Rick reported to the bridge as expected, just before five. Due to their shorter shifts, he was taking over right before dinner. Normally, he hated the dinner shift: he wouldn't eat until after everyone else and had to wait for one of the other crew or Tane himself to bring him his meal. However, tonight, he felt it was a blessing. He didn't want to sit through another meal with Henri Grollet if he could help it.

Arenui was the current helmsman. He showed Rick that the cyclone had veered a bit east again; their path to Tupua'i looked pretty good. There were some impressive bands spinning off from it, however. Since they were in the Southern Hemisphere the cyclone spun in a clockwise rotation.

Anapa himself brought him his meal. The old man had wanted to check the storm and to reassure himself that Rick was dealing with everything properly. All of the crew, save for Rick, had been in worse weather together; he knew how they reacted. Rick was still green, even with ten months under his belt. Fortunately, he was a quick study, and wasn't afraid to ask questions.

They sat in companionable silence for a while after Rick finished his meal.

"Hopo, there's something about the look of this storm that I just don't like."

"It seems to be moving away. I think we'll be ok for Tupua'i."

"That's just the thing. I get the feeling it wants us to think it's moving away. Storms are like some women. Fickle and unpredictable."

Rick laughed. "Better not let that little nugget slip to Hina."

"Bah, she'd say the same thing about some women." The older man stood, stretching his wiry frame before turning to go. "Call me if you need something."

"I will, Anapa. Go rest."

Soon Rick was left alone again. The waves were subtly getting larger, but so far nothing had happened that made him nervous. Keeping an eye on the weather reports, he settled down and simply enjoyed the feeling of taking Mother Nature on, in a small way, and doing everything he needed to keep them safe.

Two hours later, around eight in the evening, the waves were starting to slam them around a bit. It had also been raining off and on. The _Iriata_ still felt quite responsive to his touch, so he wasn't worried. When he heard feet pounding up the stairs in a rush, he was confused; there was at least an hour before Tamahere was due to relieve him at nine.

Yet, it was Tamahere that burst onto the bridge. The younger man had a panicked look on his face and eyes that were wild with fear.

"What is going on?" Rick demanded. Very little had ever excited Tamahere; his clear frenzy now must mean a catastrophe had occurred. The words that tumbled from him confirmed Rick's foreboding.

"Hopo, Hina needs you. _Vitiviti_, quickly! It's Anapa."

* * *

**Thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites and follows. I appreciate the support. Please share your thoughts with me.**


	9. Chapter 9: The Consequences of Inaction

**This chapter is dedicated to Lord of Kavaca. His stories were some of the first to catch my eye when I first joined fanfiction. I loved his take on different Castle moments and really enjoyed his A/U fics. When I first decided to write this fic, I PM'd him to ask permission. I feared some would think this was derivative of his most excellent story, Solid Ground. Obviously, it is not based on that fic, and the two differ in nearly all ways, save one: Rick and Kate are stranded. That PM was way back in January, which tells you how long I've been working on this story. And his response was an enthusiastic "go for it." Thank you, sir, for all of your incredible stories and for being so kind to this beginning author.**

* * *

November, 1999

Rick rushed down to the second level deck, after making sure Tamahere had control of the ship. Mass chaos greeted him. It seemed that almost every person on the ship, save for Tamahere, was gathered in a knot at the end of the hall. He couldn't see Anapa or Hina, but could clearly see Ari'i, Arenui and Tane boxing Henri Grollet into a corner, with Kate ineffectually pulling them back by their arms. They all seemed to be yelling at once, but he couldn't understand any of what they were shouting.

Rick strode forward; no one had noticed him.

"What's going on? What's happened?"

Ari'i turned his head towards him. "Anapa is injured thanks to this _mea_." The way he grimaced as he spit out the Tahitian word for 'thing' let Rick know just how upset Ari'i was feeling.

Turning back toward Henri, Ari'i continued to yell. "How many times did we tell you the storm was coming? You saw us securing everything this morning! Did you think we were doing it just to be stupid?"

"It's so far away, I didn't think it was a big deal. _Je suis désolé," _he apologized.

"Yes, well sorry isn't going to help Anapa, is it?"

"Where are Anapa and Hina?" Rick interjected. He was worried sick about their captain.

Arenui pointed to their cabin. Rick immediately went to the door, knocked and without waiting for a response walked in. The sight of Anapa lying on his bed in obvious agony stopped him short. His eyes were closed and his breathing rapid and harsh in the otherwise still air.

Rick took a moment to look him over. There was one overt injury; his right leg was clearly broken just above the ankle. It was not a compound fracture, but Rick could see the unnatural angle of the foot.

He rushed to his captain's side.

"Anapa, what happened? Where is Hina?"

Anapa cracked his eyes open. "Workshop. Ship ok?"

"Yes, Tamahere has her in hand. Can I get you anything?"

Just then Hina walked in, arms full of supplies. She looked anxious, but was otherwise in full control.

"Hopo, I need your help. We need to reduce the fracture and get it splinted."

Rick nodded; he'd helped her do the same thing a handful of other times. First she gave Anapa some painkillers. Once they had taken effect, Hina nodded to Rick. It was time.

He took a firm grasp of Anapa's leg above the break. Hina then pulled and manipulated the foot below until she was satisfied with the alignment. Anapa screamed and writhed in pain, despite whatever Hina had given him. Rick felt the screams tearing at his heart, but he knew what they were doing was absolutely necessary. A glance at Hina told him it was even more difficult for her; his love and respect for her grew even higher as he watched her take care of her husband.

Once the bones were back in alignment, Rick helped her splint them. It was a temporary measure until he could be fitted with something more rigid. That would have to wait until they reached Tupua'i.

After they finished, Hina gave Anapa some more of the painkilling concoction. Anapa then drifted off to sleep; Rick gave Hina a hug, and then left her to return briefly to the bridge that he had so precipitously departed just forty minutes ago. He walked right past the others, who were all still glaring at each other, without a word. He still didn't know all of what had happened, but obviously the other men thought it had something to do with their passenger.

Tamahere seemed to have things under control. His first questions were, of course, about the captain. After Rick reassured him that Anapa was sleeping and that he and Hina had managed to realign the bones they went over the ship's course and the weather reports.

Finished with Tamahere, Rick returned to the second deck. No one else was present in the passageway. He popped his head in to the captain's cabin. Anapa was still sleeping. Hina nodded at him; she seemed less anxious than before.

"The others have gone down to the saloon. They were shouting at each other again and I didn't want it to disturb Anapa. You should go down there and make sure things are not getting out of hand."

"Can I get you anything first?"

"No Hopo. I am fine. Anapa is resting. We'll be at Tupua'i in two days if all goes well. Go: make sure Ari'i has not lost his temper. You all look to Anapa as a father first, then a captain. But you are not as hot tempered as some can be. We need a calm voice in this matter."

Rick didn't feel calm ten minutes later. He had entered the saloon and found Henri sitting at the big table, drinking coffee as if he hadn't a care in the world. Ari'i and Arenui were glaring daggers at him, though both were silent. They were sitting together at the smaller table. If Henri had stood to leave they were in a position to easily block him, yet were not in his immediate presence.

Kate was seated in one of the armchairs on the other side of the room. She seemed to be watching all the men closely; far enough away that she was not directly involved, but close enough to intervene if needed. Tane was sitting in another armchair near Kate.

Rick moved to the center of the room and stood silently for a minute; his back was to the people seated in the armchairs. His only concern was on the men at the two tables.

"Someone tell me what happened. Why is our captain lying in his bunk with a broken leg, and what does _he_ have to do with it?" He gestured at Henri, expecting Ari'i to answer.

"_I_ am not to blame here…I" sputtered Henri, before Rick's emphatic gesture shut him up.

"You will get a chance to talk in a minute. Ari'i, what do you know?"

"Anapa and I were talking in his room. I was going over the plans for tonight and tomorrow; with the storm expected to strengthen we were rechecking the maps to make sure we weren't going to be blown off course."

Rick nodded; he knew the first mate and captain met often, and with bad weather approaching it was no surprise at all.

"I had just left him, and was going down the stairs to the bunkroom, when I heard a loud crash from one of the rooms. I turned around and had just reached the second level when that…person's… door opened." He stuck his chin out, indicating Henri. "He was shouting, something about his things being destroyed. Anapa was already at his doorway and was trying to figure out what was happening. Before I had a chance to do anything, Anapa went into the cabin. A second later the ship rolled hard leeward. Must have been a big wave. There was another crash and then I heard Anapa shout out in pain. I ran to the door and found him on the floor of the cabin, with his right leg pinned under a heavy chest. It hadn't been secured, so when Anapa went in there and the ship rolled…well, he didn't have a chance."

Not much rendered Rick speechless, and for it to happen a second time within a few days was truly remarkable. Something so stupid, so easily preventable. And now they had to deal not only with the weather, but also the fact that their captain was gravely injured. After a few minutes of silence he finally turned to Grollet, who was mulishly drinking his coffee and avoiding the gaze of everyone in the room.

"Why?" It was the only question Rick could think to ask. The other man wouldn't meet his eyes, but then a spark of his arrogance returned and he looked up at him with anger flashing in his eyes.

"Why what?"

"Why didn't you secure your stuff? You saw us doing it for everything else. I'm sure you were told to do it. Why can't you follow one simple order?"

"First of all, I am not some simple crewman to be bossed around. _Oui_, you re-secured the cargo. It is heavy, and needs reinforcement. My personal luggage is of no concern. Besides, I thought the storm was to the south. It shouldn't have affected the ship this much. It must be the fault of this itty, bitty boat that we are tossed around so much. I should have reserved something larger."

Rick took a deep breath, fighting for control of the rage that flooded his veins as Grollet cavalierly dismissed simple common sense. His lack of concern for anyone besides himself was truly horrifying. Breathing in and out of his nose several times, Rick regained some of his equilibrium and was able to speak without screaming in frustration.

"Yes, I feel safe in saying we all wish that you had taken some other ship. But it's too late now. If you'll excuse us, the crew is going to have a meeting now. Please return to your cabins." He turned, including Kate in the order.

Henri would not give in easily. "And just who are you to give me orders anyway? You are nothing and no one. Nothing but the least senior crewman on a ratty cargo ship."

Ari'i stood. "Well, since I am now in charge, given that your actions have taken the captain of this so called itty, bitty, ratty ship out of commission, let me give you some orders. Go to your cabin. Now." Such was the command and the anger behind it, Grollet gave no further argument. He stalked out.

* * *

Kate had remained sitting, not sure where this situation was going. She'd been horrified when she heard what happened. Had been nervous that further injuries would follow when she saw how angry the men were with their very unpopular passenger. Not that she blamed them. His actions, or lack of action, were reprehensible.

When Rick had taken charge, she had seen how the other men responded to him. It was subtle, but there. He had been working with them for months, earned their respect. He might be the least senior, in terms of nautical experience, but it was clear they all thought highly of him.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Henri stalked out. Rick turned to face her.

"Kate, go to your cabin. We have to discuss what we are going to do as a crew."

She must have had a look on her that gave away her protest before she could voice it, because he continued. "Please. Go check on Hina. She seems to be bearing up well, but I'm sure she would appreciate the support."

She wasn't part of the crew. Had no idea what kinds of decisions needed to be made. But she did know that she could offer her help to Hina, as little as that might be. She stood without speaking and walked up to the second level without arguing.

The sound of feet tromping up the stairs behind her startled her initially; she wondered if Rick had misinterpreted her silence for anger or blame and was chasing after her for a confrontation. When the feet were revealed to be all of the men, and she saw they were continuing up to the bridge, she realized that they were going to have their meeting in the only place they could include all the uninjured crewmen. She was left to wonder why the thought of Rick chasing after her had elicited a thrill of excitement.

She resorted to begging to get Hina to lie down. The first excuse was that Hina didn't want to disturb Anapa, who was still sleeping soundly. However, she had no argument when Kate offered her own cabin. After showing Kate what to give him if he woke, and promising to wake her if anything happened, Kate was finally able to convince the older woman to rest.

Kate checked Anapa before settling into a chair near him. He was quiet and didn't feel feverish. She had retrieved her beloved book from her cabin prior to forcing Hina into bed; she picked it up now. She had read it so many times that it didn't really matter where she started. Randomly flipping it open, she took comfort in the familiar words as she began her watch over the captain.

She was in the same chair an hour later when there was a knock on the door and Rick came in. He seemed surprised to see her.

"Where is Hina?"

"I put her in my cabin to rest. She looked like she was ready to drop, and I somehow convinced her I could look after Anapa for a while."

He had moved over to the bed, looking carefully at his captain but not touching him. He turned back to face her.

"That was a good idea. How has he been?"

"Sleeping for the most part. He woke about an hour ago and I gave him the preparation that Hina made for him. He was lucid when he was awake, asking about the boat. I didn't know what to tell him other than you and Ari'i had called a meeting of the crew. He just nodded, said 'good' then fell asleep again."

"Did you tie him up?" Rick was puzzled by the sheets crossing Anapa's body.

It had been difficult keeping Anapa still in the bed. The periodic large rolls the ship made as she battled the waves sometimes tossed him about the bed. In desperation, Kate had finally tied some sheets across him, holding him more or less in one place as the ship bucked. That had helped a lot, as his leg was no longer jostled nearly as much.

"Yes. He was crying out when his leg was jolted."

"Good idea." She was studiously not looking at him, not wanting to see the smirk frequently on his face when talking with her.

"Thank you." Awkward silence fell yet again between them. Kate wished things weren't so strained between them, but she wasn't sure how to bridge the gap at this point.

"So, we talked as a crew. We can swing the shifts, though it won't be easy. Normally in a storm we do shorter duties; it takes more out of you. But it's doable. And Tane is going to help. He's crewed before; just prefers to cook. But with supervision he can do the helm."

"Okay." She wasn't sure why he was telling her all this, but it made sense.

"So, we, uh….uh we were kind of wondering…"

His obvious reluctance annoyed her. She didn't appreciate anyone trying to manipulate her or protect her from anything. She wasn't some innocent that needed to be coddled. Any naiveté to the way the world really worked had been destroyed nearly a year ago.

"Just spit it out, Rodgers. What?"

"We were wondering if you've ever done any cooking?"

"Oh, so since I'm a woman you just automatically assume that I can cook? Is that it? God, you are such a male chauvinist." She was angrier than she should have been: the blatant assumption the little lady knew her way around a kitchen irked her.

Up until the moment that he had asked her if she cooked, she had wondered if they would ask her to help on the bridge. She had no background for it, but the idea seemed attractive. It had nothing to do with the image she'd had of herself standing in front of the wheel with a certain tall, muscular someone standing behind her, strong arms wrapped around her as he showed her how to guide the ship...

No! It had absolutely nothing to do with that image. She must be delirious. And she was mad at him, assuming as he had that she could cook.

He was looking at her speculatively, and with a bit of anger as well, if she was reading him correctly. Which, admittedly, she wasn't great at.

"You know what they say when someone assumes something. I didn't ask you because you are a woman. I asked you because Tane will have extra duty now up on the bridge; duty that will be quite exhausting. Someone will have to help him cook. The rest of the crew, including me, won't be able to do it. Anapa obviously can't and Hina will be taking care of him. For obvious reasons we don't want Grollet involved. That leaves you."

She should have been shamed by her false assumption, but had enough pride to be insulted by the implication that she was their last choice to make her response less than enthusiastic.

He sighed heavily. "Look, I'm sorry. This is not the ideal situation, and I wouldn't ask you if we didn't need the help. I speak for everyone when I say we wish none of this had happened, but it has. And we were hoping we could count on you to help. You can't take a shift on the bridge, at least not while we're fighting the outer bands of a cyclone. So, if you don't mind, helping in the kitchen in any way would be a godsend."

Now she really was ashamed. She didn't know what exactly it was about this man, who knew just which buttons to push; how he made her _so_ angry. However, it was time to put aside their differences and band together for the good of everyone.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'd be happy to help, though I don't really know what to do."

"It's ok. Tane will be able to show you what he needs done. I have to go; we're still working out how best to do the shifts now that there is less experience to call on. I'll have Tane come find you when we are done."

* * *

December, 1999

They passed the next thirty six hours in an almost mindless haze of work and exhaustion. The crewmen decided on a double shift of two men every six hours, with Tane filling in a few hours here and there to give them an extra hour or two of staggered sleep.

Ari'i managed to keep either himself or Arenui on with Rick, Tamahere and Tane as the weather worsened. They were the two with the most experience and it was needed, as the ocean grew angrier and angrier with each passing hour.

Kate helped Tane as much as she could, though with the terrible weather no one was very hungry. They used cold foods for the most part, nothing too heavy. When she wasn't in the galley, she was watching over Anapa and letting Hina get some rest.

She was almost never alone, though that wasn't something she'd planned or arranged. There was simply so much work to do, and too few hands to do it. Her exhaustion was inevitable, but she wasn't alone in her fatigue. Every person, save Henri, worked to save the ship; save the captain. Extreme fatigue sent her into a deep sleep whenever she managed to lay down for a bit. It also left her mind dulled; not a lot, but just enough she wasn't observant as unusual. Which meant she didn't notice the missing key. Luckily, there was never an opportunity for the man who had taken it to actually use it.

Anapa continued to be stable. His wife's painkilling potions went a long way to making sure he was comfortable. Hina spent most of her time either nursing him or making more medications for him.

As for M. Grollet, he disappeared into his cabin and rarely ventured forth that anyone could see. Rick was happy that he had decided to remove himself from the sight of the crew. They were all exhausted, and knew they could blame him for all the extra work they were doing, as well as for the heavy hearts they bore as they worried about their beloved captain.

Rick was on duty with Ari'i when the first mate announced they were within hours of Tupua'i. That alone was a huge relief, but even better news was the fact that it had stopped raining and the ocean seemed marginally calmer.

"Hopo, have you ever been to Tupua'i?" asked Ari'i.

Rick had, once. It was a magnificent island, surrounded almost entirely by a coral reef, called _motus_ by the natives. There was a break in it on the northern side, which was how they would approach the island.

Because all of the Austral islands were much further south than the rest of French Polynesia, they had a more temperate climate. That's not to say it got very cold, but there was more variation in the temperature than the islands to the north were used to experiencing. They were also the youngest islands; Tupua'i's volcanic past easily discernable. The combination of more moderate temperatures and rich volcanic soil made the islands of the Australs incredibly productive, from an agricultural standpoint.

"I have to say, I am glad the rain has let up. It is midafternoon now; we might have some good light to go by if we are lucky. I wasn't going to chance an approach while the sea was so wild, but this will be doable as long as things don't get worse."

Sure enough, a few hours later the island had slid into view. Ari'i felt that they would be safe navigating through the reef break, and within an hour they were docking at the wharf at Mataura, the village nearest the entry through the motu.

There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone on board upon reaching the small port. They had all been challenged: individually, and as a group. And thankfully they had passed, working together. It was homage to the training and love bestowed on them by Anapa and Hina, and they repaid their mentors in full.

* * *

**Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews. I'd love for you to continue to share your thoughts.**


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter is dedicated to firerosedreamer67. One of the readers who has left a review with every new update, which I greatly appreciate. I love hearing from my readers; I've had three people read the entirety of what I've written, and they all three tell me they love the story. However, it is so uplifting and affirming to hear from others that what I've done has brought them pleasure, or that they've learned something. That's my goal as a writer, and I can't know what you think unless you tell me. Thank you for all your reviews, firerose!**

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December, 1999

Help was sought at once for Anapa, and he was soon settled into the medical clinic with Hina at his side. Henri disembarked shortly after, without telling anyone but Kate where he was going. No one else cared, but Kate wrote down the name of his lodging, the _Pension Vaiteanui_. Kate found a small _pension_ near the clinic, the _Chez Yolande_, which allowed her to help Hina and Anapa as much as possible.

The crew of the _Iriata_, meanwhile, fell into an exhausted sleep. They still maintained a duty rotation of sorts, caring for the chickens and making small repairs to the ship that the rough weather had caused. Unfortunately, about twenty four hours after their arrival, Ari'i fell ill with some sort of gastrointestinal bug. It wasn't a surprise to anyone; he had driven himself unmercifully after Anapa's injury. He became so dehydrated that he required admission to the same clinic that Anapa was staying at.

Caring for the chickens was not difficult, and the four remaining crew were fortunate to have quite a bit of down time. Both the islanders and crew alike were relieved that the cyclone had veered east once more, sparing the island of most of its wrath. It was not a terribly strong storm, but a direct hit would have devastated the island for years.

Rick was ready to hit his bunk again the afternoon of their second day in port. They had heard good news from Hina earlier; Anapa was in less pain and the x-rays had shown the bones in good alignment. They were all hoping he'd be released soon. A knock on the door to the bunkroom interrupted Rick's planned nap. Tamahere stuck his head in.

"Hopo, we just got a message that Anapa wants to talk to all of us."

"Do you know why?"

"_Aita, _no."

Rick groaned. He'd wanted the nap, but seeing Anapa would be a great substitute. However, wanting to talk to all of them at once was an odd request. He hoped everything was ok with the old man.

Rick walked the short distance to the clinic in a companionable silence with Arenui, Tamahere, and Tane. Tupua'i was a very beautiful island. With just over two thousand people on the whole island, Mataura was not large. In fact, most of the population was spread out around the circumference of the island. However, Mataura, with its wharf and nearness to the breach in the reef, was the largest village and was considered to be the capital. Because Tupua'i housed the administrative seat of the Australs, it was better equipped than the other islands in its chain.

When they arrived at the clinic, they found Anapa and Hina in the small room he'd been placed in the day they had arrived. Ari'i was a few doors down and seemed to be sleeping when they walked past him. Rick was surprised to find Kate there as well, though he was able to keep his face expressionless. He'd thought this meeting would involve just the crew, but Kate's presence spoke to something else.

Anapa was awake and looking much better. Rick thought it was easily the best he had looked since the unfortunate accident.

"_Ia ora na_. I hope you are all well, unlike poor Ari'i."

"_E,_ Anapa. We four are too tough to get sick," Arenui answered; he was the next senior after Ari'i. "You are feeling better, I trust?"

"Day by day, thanks to you all and my wonderful wife here. I would like to thank you all for the incredible job you did. We all came through that storm due to your vigilance."

They accepted his thanks, feeling it had been their job. He had taught each of them, save Tane, and the success they had was due to good training and patience from Anapa as they learned.

"I hate to ask another large favor from you, but I have no choice. Monsieur Henri, as you recall, was to be delivered to Raivavae. He is insisting that we finish the delivery, immediately, or he will demand his money back. My understanding is that the storm has moved further south and east?"

Arenui agreed; they had still been keeping track of it.

"Then I will put it to you. You are all independent men and can choose as you wish. However, since Raivavae is but a day's journey and the storm is not a direct threat, would you be willing to take Monsieur Grollet to his destination? You may of course say no, and I will understand."

None of them were keen to do anything Henri Grollet demanded, but they knew that if they refused it would cause problems for Anapa, which was something they fervently wanted to avoid.

"When would you have us leave?" Arenui asked.

"On the next ebbing tide, if you can. I know it is a lot to ask after what you have been through, and with Ari'i ill, but I am hoping since it is relatively close that you can do it."

"It's not a problem, Anapa. Next high tide is around seven this evening. We can be underway and there by tomorrow evening."

"Thank you all so much. I will have a message sent to Monsieur Grollet. And you do not need to hurry back; I am not going anywhere soon, and Ari'i is still laid up as well. Take a few days there after you unload. I do not believe Hopo has ever been there."

"No captain. I've never been." Rick was looking forward to seeing Raivavae, and looking forward even more to seeing the last of one Henri Grollet.

"I'd like to go too." Kate spoke up for the first time.

"Are you sure? I am afraid we have not given you much of a chance to see this island," Hina said. Kate had spent most of her free time at the clinic helping Hina look after Anapa and Ari'i. The clinic was not well staffed for long term care, and had been grateful the two women were willing to look after the patients.

Kate had thought about it since she'd first heard that Henri was pushing to have his cargo delivered. Both Anapa and Ari'i seemed to be on the mend, so she felt comfortable that she wasn't needed in the clinic any more. And she really wanted to see Raivavae; if the ship was going to be docked there for a few days, it would give her the perfect amount of time to explore it a bit.

"Yes, I'm sure. I'd love to see the island, if that's ok with everyone."

No one had any objections, and with the matter settled those leaving with the boat made a speedy departure to ensure all was ready.

* * *

They nearly missed the ebb; Monsieur Grollet was late, and became even more agitated than usual when he overheard Tamahere muttering about missing their window due to his actions. Their passenger didn't understand the concern; since the _Iriata_ was a powered ship, he felt they should be able to leave at any point, irregardless of the tide. However, the reef was so narrow that the crew were nervous that leaving at anything other than right around high tide would be foolhardy.

Nonetheless, they did make it through the reef. Arenui was a skilled navigator, and had a lot of experience in the Australs from his teenage years. Even though Ari'i was the natural successor to Anapa, Rick was confident after watching Arenui guide their way through the reef that he was a great substitute captain. Rick's only concern was that Arenui looked quite stressed by the whole ordeal. He was pale and sweating before they finally made it through the reef. Rick was sympathetic. It couldn't be easy dealing with Grollet, and as the man now in charge it fell to Arenui to keep Grollet somewhat happy.

Rick took the first shift after they made the open ocean. He was a little concerned about some weather reports noting the cyclone had stalled on its projected course south of them. This news forced him and Arenui to re-plot their original approach, which they'd planned with Anapa before leaving Tupua'i. By going further north than they had originally plotted, they would avoid the worst of the storm system. He was sure they wouldn't run into any particularly bad weather by sweeping around it, but it would add some time to their trip.

With three of them to rotate the shifts, they had decided to do six hours each and have Tane do a few hours during the day to stretch it out for them. Arenui would make the approach to Raivavae, which, like Tupua'i, had surrounding motus, though not nearly as complete as the one they'd just left. The only pier was on the northwest side of the island.

Rick's shift was fairly quiet as they sailed along the new course. Nothing unexpected happened, and the ocean seemed calm enough. At one a.m. Arenui relieved him. The older man still appeared haggard and pale; he gave a wan smile before shooing Rick off the bridge. The pressure of all that had happened during this trip, coupled with his new responsibilities of being the captain and getting them around the storm, seemed to be an increasing burden on the older man. Rick was glad they were going to have down time once they reached the island. They all needed a break.

With his shift officially done, the only thing Rick wanted was his bed. Both Tamahere and Tane were sleeping soundly in their bunks when he got to their quarters; he had joined them in dreamland within moments after lying down.

* * *

Kate had always been an early riser; this habit was actually helpful with her new responsibilities in the kitchen. She was up at five thirty am, knowing the next shift would take the helm at seven. No one else seemed to be about, not that she expected to see anyone. Henri was rarely up before nine and the other crew needed rest before their shifts.

She and Tane had agreed for her to do the breakfast today. It wasn't anything complicated, and he preferred to sleep in as well. When she saw that they were hitting large waves, she wasn't immediately concerned. Before she'd gone to bed, she had heard the crew discussing the weather. However, it did seem that things were looking worse, weather-wise at least. It was raining and she could see no light in the sky suggesting sunrise. The air felt heavy and wet, as though it were a blanket wrapping the ship in it's cumbrous embrace.

After drinking a cup of coffee to try and fully wake her brain, she decided to slice up some fruit and make the pancake batter for breakfast. It was now almost six, and she expected the other men to start making an appearance soon. She began to second guess the pancake idea when she felt the ship really starting to roll with the waves. Thinking perhaps Arenui needed some coffee to help him get through the last few hours of his shift, she poured a cup for him and carefully made her way to the bridge.

As she climbed the outer stairs, she noticed something odd about the waves; they seemed to be pushing the boat sideways. Previously in heavy weather the boat had ridden up a wave, but this was as if they were moving between waves instead of through them. To her it felt like it made the boat roll more, but she didn't really know much about sailing. She decided to ask Arenui about it.

The bridge was dark when she got to the third level; it typically was, in order to preserve night vision. She knocked, trying to let her eyes adjust.

"Arenui, I brought you some coffee."

He made no response, though he was sitting in his chair.

"Arenui. It's Kate, with coffee." She stepped inside and nearly lost her balance as a particularly strong wave shoved the boat to one side. Portside if she remembered her nautical term correctly. "Why are we rolling so much? Has the storm changed track again?"

When he didn't respond again she moved closer. It was then that she saw his head was slumped to his right side. Surely he wasn't sleeping on the job. She touched his shoulder and shook it when he didn't wake.

"Arenui. Arenui!" That was when she noticed his eyes were open, lifeless. "Oh, my God! Arenui!" His body was cold, arms stiff when she tried to move them. Checking fruitlessly for a pulse in his neck, she ran for the intercom that would connect her to the others.

"Hello? Hello? If anyone can hear me, I need help on the bridge right now!"

She then ran back to the center and tried to take the wheel, which she saw was rolling to and fro without direction. She knew it connected to the rudder, and she felt like she should turn the ship so they weren't being shoved sideways by the waves anymore. However, when she tried to turn the ship into the next wave, the roll that resulted knocked her off her feet due to its unexpected ferocity. The ship violently pitched as the rudder became directionless once again.

"What the hell was that? Arenui, what the hell are you doing?" She heard Rick's voice shouting from below, as he struggled to climb the stairs on the pitching ship.

"Rick, help!"

He had finally gained the bridge. "What is going on? Why are we pitching so badly?"

"It's Arenui. He's—he's dead."

"What?!" He strode to the chair as best he could, as she explained how she had found him on the bridge.

Rick quickly grabbed the wheel and started trying to make the necessary adjustments to bring the ship back under control. He slowly corrected until they were riding the waves instead of being driven.

Unfortunately, there was absolutely no way to tell where they were. He cut back the power to minimum so they wouldn't be dead in the water. It was a big ocean, but plowing ahead without any knowledge of your position was asking for a shipwreck.

Panic threatened to overwhelm him. He knew there was no way to get a fix on their location. It was still dark as night out; the cloud cover obliterated any hope of finding the moon or stars. Nothing more could be done but stall their progress as best as possible and pray they were far from any rocks. Finally, he looked over at Kate and asked, "Are you ok?"

"Yes, just got bruised from that last roll. What can I do to help?"

Before he could answer, she heard the sounds of Tamahere and Tane arriving on the bridge. As they took in the tragedy of what had occurred, Rick saw Tamahere look up at the compass and then over at the now useless navigational charts. He shared a look of horror; they both knew the danger they were in.

"My God! How long has he been dead?" Tane asked.

"I don't know, but his body is stiff. I think it's been a while," Kate answered.

"Why are we in the storm anyway? I thought it was far enough away that we wouldn't run into it. Has it moved that much?" Tane still hadn't realized how far off course they were, and Rick didn't want to panic the rest of the ship. Unfortunately, it was impossible to hide it.

"We were told by radio last night that it had stalled, so Arenui and I re-plotted a course northward to avoid it. We should have been fine," Rick explained. Everything had been on track when he'd left the bridge. The question was, how long had the ship been underway without anyone steering it?

"I don't think the storm has moved much. I think we have." Tamahere was now the most experienced sailor on board. He spoke up, assuming command as was necessary.

"What does that mean?" Kate cried out.

"If I had to guess, I think Arenui died hours ago, and we swung south. We went to the storm essentially."

"Can't we just turn around then? Go back north?" Kate had no desire to be in the middle of a cyclone. The outer bands had been bad enough.

Tamahere sighed, turned and looked at the compass. It was now pointing south east, as Rick kept them headed into the waves. "Unfortunately, it's not that easy. We almost certainly didn't go straight and there is no way to know the exact path we took."

"Why does that matter? We'll just go north and escape the weather." Kate thought it seemed like an easy solution. She didn't miss the grimace that Rick made at her words. "What? Why can't we?"

He sighed, looked at her with true sorrow in her eyes. "Because we have absolutely no idea where we are. There is no way to take a measurement without being able to see the sky. With the heavy cloud cover we may not be able to see anything for days."

"But if we sailed north and got out of the storm, we could figure it out. Right?"

"Kate, if we move without knowing where we are, we're likely to hit something. I know this part of the ocean looks empty, but in reality there are thousands of volcanic rocks out there, just waiting to rip us open. We know we're roughly south of the Australs. We just need to ride out the storm. The best plan is to try and maintain our position, then once the storm moves on we can get a fix on our position and get back to Tupua'i or get to Raivavae."

"Is that right, Tamahere?" Kate asked. She needed to hear it from both of them. She just couldn't believe there was nothing else they could do.

"Yes. We're going to have to ride it out best we can." Tamahere looked as scared as she felt, though his voice was calm.

"We need to move Arenui's body. We have to be able to use the bridge." Rick didn't want to move his friend, but it was necessary. "Kate, come take the wheel from me. Try to keep the bow of the ship pointed into the wave like this," demonstrating as the next wave broke.

Once he was satisfied she wasn't going to capsize them, he, Tane, and Tamahere carefully lifted Arenui's body.

"Where are we taking him?" Tane asked.

"We can't leave him on the bridge. Let's see if we can get him down the stairs. We'll put him in the captain's cabin for now." Rick wasn't sure why he was making the decisions other than the fact that he was older than the other two.

As they laboriously moved down the stairs with their burden, both physical and mental, a door was scraped open.

"What is all this racket? What is going on?"

Rick groaned inside. Just what they needed, Henri Grollet was awake.

Reaching the second level, they continued forward, not bothering to answer their passenger's questions. After placing Arenui's body in Anapa's cabin, Rick turned and found the rather unpleasant visage of an angry Grollet in his face.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Kate found Arenui dead this morning. It appears that he's been dead for some time. We are way off course, in the middle of the cyclone and have no way of figuring out where we are. Does that answer all your questions?"

Without waiting for the man to say anything he walked off, brushing past the annoying man. He had too many problems to contend with besides an angry passenger. He returned to the bridge to take the wheel from Kate. Tamahere and Tane joined him and they started trying to figure out what to do. He entirely missed the look of impotent rage that Grollet sent him as Rick stalked back to the bridge.

* * *

The next two days were a blur. The three remaining crewmen did their best, but it was impossible to hold their position completely. Unlike the northern Pacific, this area of the ocean did not have a complete radio navigation network set up. They could have gotten a fix with sextant readings for latitude and a chronometer and maps for longitude. However, there was no way to use the sextant with the cloud cover, and without knowing where they were the chronometer was also useless.

So far they had been damn lucky, but Rick had a feeling there was only so much time until the next disaster landed another uppercut on them. One that might be a knockout blow. They tried repeatedly without success to raise someone on the VHF radio, but heard nothing but static. They were far from any shipping lanes, and it was almost certain that everyone with any sense had sailed as far as possible from the looming cyclone. They were alone, with only their knowledge and Anapa's lessons to rely on.

They were also so far off course that it was not feasible to think anyone would know where to look for them. Rick just hoped the storm would move off and leave them alone, but as usual Mother Nature seemed to have other ideas.

The storm's intensity was incredibly grating: fighting the ship's wheel, jolted continuously when they didn't hit the waves just right, exhausted by doing the work of many.

They had rigged jack lines in order to move about. Much to Henri's rage, no one had checked the chickens. When he screamed about it for the third time in his presence, Rick told him he was more than welcome to do it himself. That finally shut him up.

Kate was now the only cook, not that she did much. It was dangerous to try and prepare anything in the little galley, due to the pitching and rolling they endured. They existed on whatever fruit was left and lots of water and coffee.

On the third day, Rick began to hear new sounds from the ship as they were pounded by the waves. There were new creaks and groans; he feared the structure was slowly coming apart. The _Iriata_ was a good ship, but she wasn't made for weather like this. He and Tamahere began discussing throwing caution to the wind and trying to head out of the storm.

They asked everyone to the bridge mid-morning. The only way they knew the time was by the clocks and watches; the sky was just as dark and terrifying as if it were night. Torrents of rain pounded continuously, adding to their misery.

After everyone was present, even the odious Henri, Tamahere and Rick shared their concerns and the dangers of staying, versus trying to make a run from the storm without knowing where they were going. Rick had one more matter to discuss as well.

"I wanted you all to come up so we could go over evacuation protocol in case something happens to the ship. It's better to know what to expect rather than try to do it without any thought to what to do."

Tamahere and Tane nodded; they had known this was coming. Kate was aghast. It was bad enough in a large ship; surely in the tiny lifeboat she'd seen in the bow it would be a hundred times worse.

"We will need to be orderly and calm. Take nothing but essentials. It's already stocked with a few survival rations and water, but grab as many non-perishables from the galley as you can. And some more bottles of water. Tamahere, you'll go out first."

Henri immediately interrupted, "Why him? Why shouldn't I go first?"

Rick rounded on him, snapping, "Of course you can go first. I was only sending him first so he can get the lines deployed to launch it, but since you're volunteering that's fine."

"No, no, no. That's all right. I was just wondering. Never mind."

"Fine. Now, I'll start again. Hopefully, with fewer interruptions this time. Tamahere, you'll go first and get the boat ready to launch. Kate, you'll go second with the water and whatever rations you can carry. Tane, third with the same. M. Grollet fourth. I'll come last; Tamahere and I will launch with everyone in the boat. And then we'll wait for rescue." He looked around to see if they understood. "Take only as much food and water as you can safely carry. Find some bags to put it in, so you can walk securely along the decks. Make sure you have a jack line hooked up to be safe."

He surveyed the little group again. They were scared, but they were listening to him. He felt like a fraud; was terrified they were looking to him for help, when he was scared to death as well. But someone had to take charge, and Tamahere hadn't stepped up. That left Rick. Sighing, he added: "We're not likely to be rescued for some time, and with five people to feed it's going to be difficult. Bring high calorie items if you have a choice."

Henri gave him a speculative glance that Rick couldn't read. He had no time to spare for superfluous complaints and imagined slights, so he ignored the man.

"Is everyone clear on the order? Ok, Tamahere, could you check below decks again and make sure the bilge pumps are keeping up? Tane, you'll take the next shift."

Rick relinquished the wheel, such as it was, and started down the stairs.

"Rick there's coffee in the saloon if you want." Kate thought he looked awful; they all did. No one could sleep, no one could eat. It was as if the storm was trying to kill them slowly; exhaust them before sending them to slumber forever in the bottomless depths.

"Thanks Kate. Don't mind if I do." He followed her down and poured a small cup.  
"Sorry about all this."

"How is all this your fault?"

"I don't know. I'm just sorry you're here, away from everything you know and there's nothing I can do to make it better."

"So you don't have any family?"

"No, I do. My mother."

"Won't she worry?"

"Ha, she's been worrying for the last twelve months, since I left New York. Fine, I see your point. But I took this job knowing there were dangers. You were supposed to be a passenger on the vacation of a lifetime."

"Is that what you think I was doing here?"

"It's not? Why else would you be here?"

Kate shook her head. "There's not time to go into it all. You need to rest; so do I. I'll see you later."

As Rick lay down a few minutes later, he wondered yet again why he seemed to always say the wrong thing around Kate Beckett. It was a talent, that's for sure. No other explanation.

* * *

Tamahere had returned, reporting the bilge pumps were keeping up. They'd both slept then, leaving Tane in charge so that the two of them could get a few hours of precious shuteye. Rick was dreaming he was on a roller coaster at Coney Island, when a horrific grinding noise and the sensation of flying through the air woke him. He just had time to think 'what the hell now?' when his head struck the wall and he fell unconscious.

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**Well, quite a place to end, eh? Next chapter will be very exciting, that I promise.**

**Ok, the readers have spoken. There is decided agreement that every two days still works for most of the people, so I'll continue that schedule. I clearly need to stop worrying about numbers and just enjoy the fans that I have for this story. If you all knew Garrae, you would know that there is an "I told you so" that came streaking my way. I will try and relax about the whole thing and just let it all be. Thanks for all the responses!  
**

**So, every 2 days. Chapters 11 and 12 are doozies, and explain a lot of the events from the beginning. Hope you all enjoy, and see you Friday.**


	11. Chapter 11: The die is cast

**This chapter is dedicated to jennkyle. A seemingly voracious reader of Castle fanfic, she always has a comment and is always quite cheerful and supportive. Not just on things I write, but for many authors on the site. I really appreciate that she's stuck by me for this fic; she is a constant voice of encouragement. Thank you for always taking the time to read my updates and for being such a great reviewer!**

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December, 1999

Kate clutched the armrest tightly. She was on a plane, and they were in a terrible storm. Turbulence was throwing everyone around, and she thought they were lost for sure until the pilot managed to pull them up in a steep ascent. Followed by a steep dive. This kept repeating until she was sure she would puke. Suddenly, there was a loud grinding noise and she was flung from the plane, only to wake up and realize she'd been in fact flung from her bunk.

They were no longer moving, but the horrific grating accompanying the rocking of the boat side to side told her something was very, very wrong. She tried to get up, see what was going on, but found her legs were stuck. She was on her stomach, and her lower half had been trapped. Twisting around to see what had happened, she recognized that her legs were snarled in what had been an open space beneath the drawers and cabinets of the wall opposite her bed. Confused, she stared at the pieces of wood that now pinned her in place. What on earth had happened?

The heavy grinding noise continued, and she soon realized they must have struck something. The ship listed heavily to one side, and each wave that pounded into the hull elicited a loud screech of metal. It was time to abandon ship before they all went down with the _Iriata_. She began to struggle to free herself; it was very awkward, given that she was pinned while lying prone. She couldn't see what she needed to do to escape, and couldn't reach around to use her hands to help. Nothing felt broken, though her right ankle in particular hurt like the devil. She was just…stuck.

The violent collision had twisted the entire structure, causing her current predicament. Her door had popped open with the violent collision; she started hoping that someone would pass by and she could get their attention. She couldn't see anyone, but was sure they would come searching for her when they realized she was missing. She knew that Rick in particular wouldn't forget anyone. She might not always like him or his interactions with her, but she knew he was reliable and diligent about his job. He wouldn't willingly abandon ship without searching for all people aboard.

When no one appeared, she tried screaming for help for a while; no one responded. The terrifying sound of the ship groaning on the rocks continued unabated. Soon Kate realized she was going to drown, alone. Her only comfort was that she hoped to join her mother soon.

Perhaps thirty minutes later, she was still waiting for water to flood her room. She'd been alternately violently struggling with the heavy wood and just lying still, reflecting on what it would feel like to drown. Would it hurt? She'd decided to accept death when it came for her. She wouldn't fight the very thing that would reunite her with her mother. Though, given a choice, she now knew she would have preferred to reunite with Johanna some years later. She wanted to live. It seemed fate had another plan for her.

She had started wriggling again and at last felt a give in one of the bigger pieces holding her down. Encouraged, she redoubled her efforts at shifting the wood when she finally heard a voice calling.

"Hello! Katherine? Where are you?"

It was Henri's voice.

"Henri!" she screamed, "I'm here! Help me! I'm in my room." She pounded on the floor, trying to get his attention by any means possible.

"Katherine! What are you doing? We must abandon ship." His voice had moved closer, and he soon appeared in the frame of her cabin door. He regarded her with a flat expression that she didn't understand. "Ah, you are having some problems, no?"

"Henri, help me! I'm trying to get out, but I'm stuck under this cabinet. I think I've almost got it though. Can you just help me move this piece," she said, twisting to point at the largest piece trapping her, "and I'm sure I can wriggle out."

He stood; unmoving and watching her like a cat watches a mouse. A shiver ran up her back as she felt how vulnerable she was. She saw him lick his lips before he spoke, tasting the air almost like a snake does with its forked tongue.

"You know, the other day I was hoping we'd be alone in your room. But you disappeared and I was left by myself. Now I find you as I'd hoped, on your hands and knees, prostrate before me. It is a delicious image; one that I'll entertain whenever I think of you in the future."

She stared in disbelief. Fear once again clutched at her throat, every molecule of saliva vaporized by a pulse of dread. "That was a different situation, Henri. Right now we need to evacuate. No one will be staying behind. We must hurry, before we drown. Please, help me. I'm sure I can get out. Just the one piece of wood is all."

He relaxed his stance, leaning nonchalantly against the frame of the door. "You know, it's truly a shame we didn't have more time together. I think I would have come to like you. Might have cared about you. If you'd given me a chance. And, speaking of chances, I have a mathematical question to pose to you. There are two boats, let's say. In both, there are rations for five people. One boat has five survivors. The other has three. Which boat will have a better chance for its occupants to survive to rescue, hmm?"

Kate made no answer; in truth she wasn't even sure it was a question she understood. All she could think about was that he wasn't helping her. She was stuck and he was playing with her. Her life rested in the hands of a madman. A madman who was speaking to her, again.

"No answer, my sweet Katherine? So beautiful, but perhaps not so intelligent. After all, you failed to recognize my importance until it was too late. Well, it comes to my mind that the survival of three people on rations meant for five is the much better odds, don't you think?" He smiled; a smile that did not reach the flat, black eyes. If Kate had been scared before, she was terrified now.

"What are you talking about? There are five of us that need to evacuate."

"Ah, but this is where you are mistaken my beautiful Katherine. I found Rodgers already; he was unconscious, and I made sure he would stay that way with a quick blow to the head. Then, I indulged in a few sharp kicks to his body. It was great fun, marred only by the fact that he was already insensible and won't ever wake up to know I was the one responsible for his death. As disappointing as that is, it did leave us with four for the little lifeboat."

"We can't leave him. That's…inhuman," Kate said, her voice a near whisper. She couldn't process what was happening, it was so far removed from anything she knew and was familiar with. The entire situation must be a dream. Except for the incredible pain in her ankle. "I'm just dreaming," she started murmuring.

"Then, imagine my surprise at finding you here, in such a state, my dear Katherine. It's as though the fates have interceded on my behalf. You are nothing to me, having spurned me before. And, what should occur, but you are stuck here just like Rodgers. Thus, leaving three for the lifeboat. As far as you go, well, unfortunately, you will simply be missing. Yes, I could not find you though I searched the entire deck," he mused, hand stroking his chin as if he were simply deciding on his dinner entrée.

"Or," he said with a new light in his eyes, "you had a terrible head injury. There was nothing I could do for you. I am very sorry. Perhaps it would have been different if you had simply given me what I wanted, when you had the chance. But now? Now, I do not need you. I will tell everyone how much it pained me to leave your body behind when they rescue me. _Au revoir, mon ami_. May your death be quick. Though it will likely be painful."

Kate stared at the man in complete and utter shock. He was crazy, there was no other explanation. As the meaning of his little speech became clear, she gave a violent lurch that finally released her from the maw she'd been trapped in. As she rolled free, she saw the door to her cabin closing; she crawled to the door, not even taking the time to stand. The sound of the key turning in the lock from the outside registered as she grabbed the handle. She tried twisting it with a violent torque, but the knob remained frozen. She collapsed onto the door, pounding the thick wood.

"Henri. No, please. Let me out. Please."

She heard his feet scraping the floor outside the door.

"Henri! PLEASE! Don't let me drown. HENRI?"

His voice answered but was muffled; further away.

"I'm very sorry Katherine. There is nothing I can do. I will tell them all of my sorrow; you will be remembered."

The last of his words were faint and difficult to hear.

"Wait! Henri! Come back here. HENRI. PLEASE! PLEASE!" she screamed, drawing out the last word for several seconds at top volume.

She didn't hear anything in return.

"Henri! HENRI! DON'T LEAVE ME TO DROWN." She pounded on the door until her fists were raw. "I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, HENRI. YOU'RE A DEAD MAN, YOU HEAR ME? A DEAD MAN!" He didn't, or at least there was no indication that he had. She continued to scream, though it quickly devolved into a series of meaningless shouts, not words. She'd never been so angry and so terrified in her life.

She sank to the floor sobbing hysterically after the only answer she received was the grinding of the boat against the rock. She had accepted her death earlier, when she thought she was alone and without hope. She had found some measure of peace; reflected on her life and awaited its end. Now, that fragile acceptance had been destroyed. Somehow it seemed infinitely crueler to know that her death was to be at the hands of such a man rather than a random act of nature.

* * *

A jackhammer was drilling somewhere nearby. Rick wished they'd take the work elsewhere; he was trying to sleep. But the noise was unrelenting. As he drifted closer to consciousness, he realized the jackhammer was _in_ his head. The pain made him nauseous. He opened his eyes with trepidation; he couldn't remember what had happened.

There was a loud grinding noise that he knew was _not_ in his head. He was encased in darkness, and now that he was awake other parts of his body began to clamor for attention in addition to the pulsing headache. He couldn't move his legs far, his trunk was twisted awkwardly around something cold and metallic, and one arm was trapped underneath his body. His sides felt like Muhammad Ali had been using him for a sparring partner.

Gingerly moving about he explored with his free hand. He found the cold metallic object had a lip and a wide hole; when his hand encountered water he realized it was a toilet. He'd somehow wound up on the floor of the bathroom.

Perhaps he'd been drunk? Or had the GI bug Ari'i had succumbed to? He was about to try and move so he could stand, when there was a giant lurch and shriek of metal. It threw him against the toilet and he was sure he'd bruised some ribs. The vague memory of another loud shriek of metal and flying through the air came back to him. Putting it together with the incessant grinding, he realized they had struck something.

Desperate now, he tried to regain control of his legs; they were tangled in the small space behind the toilet, and he couldn't see in the blackness what he needed to do to get unstuck. He reached up and was able to get the small door open. Dim light filtered in. His legs appeared fine, just cramped. Taking a quick inventory of the rest of his body, he saw no blood and nothing felt broken. Gingerly feeling his head, he found a large bump on the back, near his ear and another near his forehead. He must have struck his head on something. Several times, apparently.

Shifting out of his temporary prison, he finally regained his feet. A quick check in the mirror showed that there was dried blood on his head over the lumps, but nothing that merited more concern.

Stumbling out into the bunkroom, he saw nothing but mattresses and clothing spilled out of drawers and across the room. It was a mess, but devoid of other people. He limped to the door of the saloon and found it similarly empty.

"Hello? Tamahere? Tane?" His voice echoed back. Hearing only the grinding of the ship and the pounding of the rain, he knew he was alone. He couldn't feel the presence of anyone else. Making his way to the kitchen, he saw evidence that someone had survived; the shelf with water on it was missing half of its bottles, and the area of boxed foods had been pilfered.

Why had they left him behind if they were gathering supplies for the lifeboat? He couldn't fathom leaving someone behind, though he knew it was possible they'd overlooked him in the bathroom if doing a cursory search. He turned, intending to hook up a jack line and make his way to the bow and see what was going on, when another lurch threw him against the fixed table near the kitchen. All thoughts of his precarious position on a sinking ship were lost as blackness rushed up and took him into its embrace once again.

* * *

March 2010

Tamahere sat back in his chair. This had been the last page given to Afaitu by Hopo. Now he understood the fear that Hopo carried with him, and why he was so desperate to find Kate. Not to mention the danger they were all in if this story fell into the wrong hands before they had a chance to bring it to the right people.

He sighed heavily. He could write the next part. The part of the story that Hopo didn't know. Checking the clock, he saw that there was plenty of time before he was due to meet Afaitu. Standing slowly, feeling joints creaking and groaning from their stiff positions, he shuffled to the kitchen to fix a light lunch while he considered what to do. He was no best-selling author, that was certain, but he thought it would be important to add his perspective on what had happened.

As he munched on his sandwich, he set himself to the painful task of remembering what had happened that horrible day. He'd pushed it down so far, for so long, that initially it was hard to remember much of anything. However, closing his eyes and recalling the sound of the _Iriata_ dying on that rock helped him remember the rest.

After cleaning up the kitchen, he approached the laptop once again, like a man walking to his execution. Now that he'd decided his course, he hoped to have the words to make it a worthy addition. Sitting down once again, he started typing out his actions from ten years ago.

* * *

December, 1999

The ship was listing so far portside, Tamahere wasn't sure they could even launch the lifeboat. He had been on the bridge with Tane when they had struck whatever it was. Rock he figured, but the rain was pounding down so hard, no one could see much beyond the length of an arm. He'd been bruised but good from the violent collision throwing him into a wall, but all injuries were forgotten as he and Tane recognized catastrophe that had just struck. Literally.

Luck had smiled on them at that point; though how much good fortune could you invoke when you find your crewmate dead, your ship in the middle of a cyclone and then you rip open the hull on a rock? Whatever you called it, the ship hadn't sunk immediately. He had no idea why, but he wasn't going to question it.

He and Tane had wanted to grab what they could from the bridge. It was a mess; the large front window had broken, and part of the structure had twisted around itself. The torque of the superstructure being able to move compared to the sudden stop the ship had experienced serving to essentially destroy the entire far side of the bridge. Which had housed the navigational maps and other instruments. And the radio. Not that that apparatus had been much use to them recently.

Without maps or sextant, they took what they could salvage: the two flashlights that were always kept on the bridge. They both then limped down to the first level. There was a locker there with emergency supplies. They took the essentials: the flare gun, a few ropes, and a hand cranked radio that had very limited range, but was better than nothing. There were some spare batteries for the flashlights, as well.

Next, they headed to the saloon, hoping to meet with the others. Unfortunately, the only other human they found was Henri, busy piling food and water in a sack to haul to the life boat. No sign of Hopo anywhere. Tamahere started to move to the bunkroom to check it, when Grollet's voice rang out.

"No one's in there. I checked it already."

Tamahere turned, looking at their passenger. "Have you seen Hopo or Kate anywhere?"

"No, mon Dieu, no. No one besides you and Tane."

Ignoring the man, Tamahere opened the door anyway, but didn't see any signs of Hopo in the bunkroom when he looked around. The room was a mess but there were no signs of life. No sign of his friend. Deciding that Hopo must have already gone to the lifeboat, Tamahere returned to the saloon to grab what he could carry before moving to the bow. He forgot in the fear and panic of the moment that Rick had already gone over the evacuation protocol with them. And that Rick had planned to be the last one to leave, not the first.

"We have to get to the lifeboat before we sink. I'll go first, and help Hopo start preparing to launch. Tane, get more food in a bag and all the water you can carry. Bring bottles, as we can fill them with rain if needed. Henri, I want you to go to the second floor and look for Kate."

Henri looked mutinous but a glare from both Tane and Tamahere settled it. Tamahere turned back to Tane. "Give me about fifteen minutes then send Henri and Kate. You come last. I'm sure Hopo is already there, as he's not here with us."

The journey to the bow was a struggle. The boat was listed far enough to one side that there was a real chance of slipping down the slope and over into the water; without the jack lines they'd left rigged, Tamahere was certain he would never have made it.

Once he reached the lifeboat, he was both disappointed and terrified to find no sign Hopo had been here. He had no idea where he could be, and sent a prayer up that Henri would find him on the second deck. He set about loosening the needed ropes, and tried to picture how they would get the smaller craft into the water without all of them drowning.

Working steadily and as carefully as he could, he nearly had everything ready fifteen minutes later. Now, he just had to wait on the others. Peering towards the stern, he still couldn't make out anything, and started considering going back to help look for the others and to carry more supplies back. Before he could make a decision, the boat suddenly lurched and listed even further portside. Tamahere was flung towards the roiling sea; saved solely by the jack line he had been careful to maintain.

Dangling helplessly for a few minutes, he almost gave in to feelings of despair. Then he heard someone shouting. He pulled himself up by the line until he regained his footing and found Henri Grollet and Tane crawling onto the bow.

"Where are the others?"

"Gone," was Grollet's reply.

"What do you mean?" Tamahere couldn't imagine Hopo wasn't behind them.

"They're dead," Grollet shouted. He was looking at the lifeboat like a man crawling in a desert would look at a glass of water, seeming unconcerned about the two missing people.

"Dead!? Are you sure?" Tamahere was ready to go back, look himself.

"I'm sure. I saw them both. I think Rodger's neck snapped or something and Kate had a big hole in her head. They're dead. Just like we will be unless we get off this boat."

"Where was he? He wasn't in the bunkroom." Tamahere took a few steps towards the stern, intending to go look for Hopo himself.

"What? Why does it matter?" came Grollet's response.

"It matters to me. He's my friend, and I'm in charge."

"Fine! He was on the second floor."

"Where?"

"_Mon dieu_, he was in Hina's workshop. He must have been trying to steal some medicines when we struck the rock. Something knocked him off balance, and he hit his head."

"I thought you said he snapped his neck?"

The little man stared at him for a second before sputtering, "Yes, yes. He hit his head, then snapped his neck. It was very tragic, but it made him very dead. Now, let's get in the life boat and get out of here."

Tamahere didn't trust the man to begin with, and the story he was spinning smelled like an opened coconut left out in the sun all day. Since neither Tane nor Henri could launch the boat without him, he had decided to go back and check this fishy story when another violent lurch sent them all tumbling.

"We have to go. Now," Tane screamed, "they're dead. Let's go! I saw them too."

Tamahere closed his eyes in grief. He couldn't believe his friend was gone, and he didn't believe Grollet's story about how he'd found their bodies. He wondered if Grollet had even searched for them. Perhaps they were trapped; needed help. However, as captain, he was now responsible for everyone aboard the ship. He didn't know either Henri or Tane well; they had both joined the boat for this trip, and he didn't trust them. However, he knew that there was a large chance if he did go back the delay would make escape impossible.

Looking up, he knew there was no true choice to make. He could not risk the lives of two living humans for two others who he'd been told were dead. Even though he strongly suspected the truth on that score did not lie with Grollet or Tane.

"Get in the boat," he barked, fists clenched and heart aching as he prepared to launch the only life raft on the boat.

Henri scrambled in first. The last lurch of the ship had worked in their favor for a change; the boat could now be swung out over the ocean without much work. Tane jumped in and Tamahere followed after checking the lines again.

"Hang on!" He'd found life jackets for them and they'd cut the jack lines. It was now or never. He cut the last line and they fell into the ocean with a giant splash.

"Row!" he screamed at Tane; even Grollet had taken up an oar. They had to get away from the ship; if it sank now it could pull them down with it.

At first it seemed like they were making no progress. The waves threatened to swamp them, but they found their rhythm and were able to work together. The shadow of the ship slowly faded into the rain. There were no other landmarks visible, due to the curtain of rain that obscured everything. It was as if the ship had been grabbed by a giant hand in the middle of an otherwise open ocean. A hand that had clenched its fingers and crushed the hull of the ship as if it were crumpling a piece of paper. A hand that would soon sink back beneath the sea, its prize clutched in its grip forever.

Tamahere looked back once, allowing himself a moment of grief for all he'd lost on that ship. Their passenger, Kate Beckett. Arenui. Hopo. Great friends, comrades in the best sense of the word. '_Thank you for all that you taught me. I will not forget your kindness and your friendship. I will try to live my life as a better person after knowing the two of you,' _he vowed to the memory of Hopo and Arenui, as the ship disappeared from his view_. _He prayed he had done the right thing, that he was leaving three dead to the eternal comfort of the ocean.

He prayed that Grollet was telling him the truth, and that his terror that there were two who yet lived was just the ravings of his own mind after a horrific experience. That he wanted them to be alive because he wasn't ready to say goodbye to Hopo. Certainly, as the three of them fled the ship in the only lifeboat, it was preferable for Hopo to be dead. Otherwise he, Tamahere, was sentencing him to a watery grave that could have been avoided. He didn't realize then that this very thought would haunt him for years to come.

At this point, the brief moment of self-doubt and grief he allowed himself had passed. He had to find a way to save the remaining people. It would not be an easy task, but it would be a living testament to the men who had taught him so much.

* * *

**Thoughts? Anyone suspect that was the use for the key? **


	12. Chapter 12 Coming up snake eyes in 2010

**This chapter is dedicated to theputz913. We have PM'd frequently as the story advances, and I love seeing the thoughts and ideas for what's about to happen next. I think I've managed to surprise some people with the events from 1999, including theputz913. Thanks for all your reviews and your excitement over the story as it's unfolded.**

* * *

December, 1999

It took constant vigilance to keep them on top of the water, as opposed to _in_ the water. Though the waves crashing over the sides made it feel as though they _were_ in the water. He had one of them on oars constantly, keeping the little lifeboat pointed the correct way to ride the waves. The other two bailed water out, only to have it slam back in with the next wave.

Time slowed to a crawl as they fell into an exhausting rhythm. There was no time to rest, no time to think. If he'd had time, he might have been surprised that even Grollet worked like a demon beside he and Tane. Later, he would realize that the man's immense talent for self-preservation had been at work: none of them wanted to die. To live, they had to work together. And work they did.

He had no idea how long it went on. It felt like days. It probably was. There was no way to tell day from night in the grip of the cyclone's ferocity. But, eventually, there was a noticeable slackening in the force of the rain hitting them; fewer waves threatening to swamp them. They were able to pare the workforce down to two, allowing each man a chance to sleep in rotation. Then even two workers became superfluous, as the fury of the cyclone finally gave way to the peace of the South Pacific paradise that Tamahere was so intimately acquainted with.

There was time at last for him to truly rest. Leaving Tane in charge, he fell into a dreamless slumber for hours. It was the change in speed that abruptly roused him. That and the crackling of canvas rattling in the wind.

He sat up, confused. Still half asleep. They were moving very fast. Far faster than they should be. The sky was still overcast, though the rain was now light and the waves nearly unnoticeable.

Looking up, his heart dropped into his stomach when he saw why they were moving so rapidly. The little mast had been raised and a sail was taut with the captured wind, driving the boat forward.

"What the hell are you doing?" he screamed at Tane, who was sitting in the stern with the rudder in hand.

Tane looked confused at being yelled at. "Sailing?"

Tamahere crawled back from his position in the bow and disengaged the mainsheet. Clew loose, the sail immediately luffed and the boat slowed dramatically.

"What are you doing?" screamed Grollet. Tamahere hadn't noticed him earlier, in his haste to slow them down. He was seated between the stern and the mast.

Tamahere didn't answer, too busy securing the sail down and watching the boom carefully. It would be just his luck to get hit and knocked out of the boat. He wasn't sure the other two would fish him out of the water.

Once finished, he turned back to the others. "Do either of you idiots know what you're doing?"

Seeing mutinous fury in their eyes, he softened his next words. "We don't know where we are. You had us under full sail. Do you have any idea how fast we were moving?"

Neither said a word.

"We just escaped a sinking boat however many days ago? Are you so eager to find yourself in the same situation again? There are shoals all over this ocean. Yes, the draft of this boat is much shallower than the _Iriata_ had. Doesn't mean we can't be ripped open."

Tane had the good grace to look ashamed. Grollet was not ready to listen.

"We can't just sit here, bobbing like a cork in a giant tub."

"Where are we going?" Tamahere asked.

"Surely we'll run into an island eventually," Grollet said mulishly.

"If we're lucky, we'd see it first, but as fast as we were moving maybe not," Tamahere replied. "Look, let's wait till the sky clears. We can at least wait to look around and see if there are any islands about. With the visibility we have right now, we could have sailed past Tahiti and not noticed it. We have to be able to see to try and get a fix on where we are. Then we can go under sail. Carefully. Okay?"

The other two men nodded. Tane eagerly, knowing it was a good idea. Grollet hesitantly. Agreeing because he recognized he had no other idea or plan.

By nightfall the sky had cleared of almost all its cover. Tamahere wished they'd been able to bring their maps and the sextant. At least they had taken all of the _Iriata_'s flashlights (three) and flare guns before abandoning ship. Tamahere was confident that _if_ they were able to get within a reasonable distance of inhabited islands or another vessel, they could signal for help. He tried cranking the radio, but the water they'd kept bailing out had risen high enough to encroach on its storage spot. It wouldn't work.

Tamahere next thought about how he could figure out where they'd shipwrecked. They'd been headed east, to Raivavae. However, Rick and Arenui had changed their plot due to weather, then the unfortunate Arenui had left the ship unmanned for hours. Tamahere had no idea if the storm had moved; if not, that meant they'd swung quit far to the south. If it had moved, they might have encountered it nearly anywhere.

It was impossible to know where they'd started from. After abandoning the _Iriata_, they'd drifted in the grip of the storm for days. Not to mention then sailing at a high rate of speed in who knows what direction while he was sleeping. No, there was no way he could figure out where the _Iriata_ might lie. He hoped talking to Anapa would help; the old man knew these waters like the back of his hand.

The wily captain would figure it out. And Tamahere vowed he'd bring his friend's bodies back to Papeete if the ship remained above the water. If not, he would at least be able to pay his respects to the site where they'd lost their lives.

* * *

March, 2010

Stretching his aching back, Tamahere glanced up. Almost time. He saved the work to the flash drive Afaitu had given him, and left to meet with the younger man.

They were meeting today at Afaitu's house. It backed up to the jungle, as many houses on Mo'orea did. Which made it fairly easy to approach unseen from any watchers on the road.

He found Afaitu waiting for him on the back lanai, cold beer in hand and an unopened can of soda calling his name. Settling into a chair, Tamahere offered silent thanks with a nod to the lawyer.

"Did you have any trouble deciphering it?" asked Afaitu after a few silent minutes enjoying the sounds of the birds in the trees.

"It was slow going initially. Hopo is a complex man, with a complex code. But once I got the hang of it I was able to go at a good pace."

"Does it reveal why Kate would be in danger from _them_?"

"Yes."

"Do you agree with Rick that they will be eager to find her, if they discover she is alive?"

"There is no doubt."

Afaitu sighed. "I never expected anything like this when you approached me with your story of a wayward pig. But now I am in the middle of it, and I find I can't stop thinking about it. I want to know what happened to Rick and Kate. Where they've been, what they've been doing. How they survived. Why he is here without her. It's a mystery spanning ten years and I'm dying to know the answers."

Tamahere fished in his pocket, withdrawing the flash drive. He held it out to the younger man. "Here is the start of your answers."

Taking the drive, the lawyer tipped the bottle up, downing the rest of his beer. He then stood and slipped into the house, leaving Tamahere to sit alone with the songs of the birds and his memories of some of the darkest days of his life.

* * *

Forty five minutes later, the door opened and Afaitu reappeared. He looked shaken.

"Do you think this is true?" he asked, sitting in the chair he'd vacated earlier.

Tamahere nodded. "Hopo is no liar. And I have long been acquainted with the many faults of the others."

Afaitu sat silently, contemplating their next steps.

"This is going to be delicate. And dangerous."

"You knew that from the beginning. I told you there would be risk."

"Yes, but you forgot to mention we'd be taking down a government."

"Does it matter? Hopo and Kate must be saved. The actions of the others, those years ago, will come to light. They used the situation to get to where they are today. It seems only fair to me that the truth of those actions be revealed. Perhaps they will withstand the scandal."

Afaitu digested this, then shook his head. "You know they won't."

"I know. You know. Hopo knows better than anyone. Now the world must know."

"I'm not sure how to go forward. So many paths from this point, all fraught with danger. One wrong step and we are all dead men." The lawyer in him could foresee so many complications, no matter their choice of action. It was paralyzing.

"I'm glad you realize this. I am certain they would kill to keep this a secret."

"I have no doubt. They are too powerful to want to give it up. Not to mention the shame. No, we must carefully think about the next step."

They spent much of the rest of the night plotting and planning. Finally there was nothing left to discuss, and Tamahere slipped out into the blackness to return to his rented house. Afaitu slept little, tossing and turning. Wrestling with the balance of two lives in his hands.

He was terrified he was going to let them down. Let down the ghosts of his great uncle and aunt. He was not concerned with his own fate. If things went well, he would certainly be a part of the story. Perhaps a large part. Yet he never considered his role. All he could think of was that if he failed, he would be disappointing Anapa, though he had been dead for many years.

"I will do my very best. You must help guide me, uncle," he whispered. A feeling of peace enveloped him at that moment, and he was able to rest at last.

* * *

April, 2010

Afaitu made the arrangements he had discussed with Tamahere the next morning. He spent the rest of the day rearranging his office schedule and taking care of any business he had to resolve before they embarked on the next phase of the plan.

Two days later found him back in Nuutania. Sitting in the room, waiting for his client. When the door opened and Rick strode in, he noticed several things at once. First, the man was walking with more energy than he'd seen before. His posture was more upright. Hope radiating from him. He was carrying a sheaf of papers covered in his scribble, so he'd clearly been busy working on the story for them to read. And, more importantly, he had fresh bruises covering his face and knuckles.

"What happened?"

Rick waved a hand, dismissing his concerns. "Nothing. Just a minor difference of opinion."

Afaitu narrowed his eyes, not ready to drop the subject. "Over what?"

"Over the fact that they wanted to bother me. I wanted them to leave me alone."

"They? How many were there?"

"Three," came the reply.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, fine. Look, it was actually a good thing. Now they're all willing to leave me alone. I proved that I'm no easy mark, and earned some respect. Don't worry about it."

Afaitu looked at Rick closely. He did seem more relaxed and was moving as though nothing was severely injured. Giving up, he decided change the subject.

"Tamahere was able to type up what you gave me without much problem. It was…interesting."

Rick sat in the chair opposite him, settling the papers on top of the table. "You sound as though you don't believe what I wrote."

"No. I do. I just didn't realize the scope of the involvement. And the danger of what we'll be doing."

"And you want out now? You'll abandon me? Abandon us?" Rick clenched his fists, angry.

"I will not abandon you, Rick. It has been a long few days, trying to decide the correct direction to take. So many things could go wrong, and _they_ will not hesitate to act in order to preserve their position."

"Why do you think I pled guilty to these bogus charges? As soon as I truly woke up from the ordeal in the little boat and told people who I was, I gained their attention. I was told in no uncertain terms that my life would be snuffed out unceremoniously if I didn't cooperate. I knew if I died that Kate would have no hope of rescue. I am the only one who can find her."

"Could you not simply trust me with the information? I will not reveal where she is, and it would ensure that if something happened to you I could still protect her."

Rick closed his eyes, grasping his head between his hands, fighting the nausea that rose when he thought about failing her. Failing them.

"I wish I could. God, I wish I could. I can't remember." He peered at Aifatu, hands still clutching his head. He looked close to tears. "I can't remember," he repeated hoarsely. "I've tried and tried. I know what the island looks like, I remember what our life was like while there. I even remember that horrific day when I realized I was adrift on the raft and couldn't get back. But most of the rest of those weeks bobbing aimlessly on the ocean are lost to me." He started sobbing at this point, and Afaitu found himself frozen in place, unable to comfort the bereft man.

When the sobbing slowed down, he started speaking again. It was almost a whisper, and Aifatu had to listen closely to understand him.

"I've tried, and tried, but I simply can't remember almost all of my time at sea. I can't even remember what _direction_ to go. I'm assuming down south, since we were headed to Raivavae initially, but I just don't know! Why can't I remember?"

"You were near death. Had injuries. You even had amnesia when you finally woke up. No one can blame you for not remembering."

"_I_ blame me. _I_ was supposed to rescue her. She's counting on me. And I'm failing her. God, it's killing me. And I don't know. I just don't know."

He wiped his eyes. He didn't seem ashamed of his tears. Just ashamed of his memory.

"It does me no good to cry over something that I can't fix. I _have_ to find her. That's why I couldn't risk them doing something stupid, like killing me. If I'm dead, no one knows she needs rescuing. Or no one knew until you and Tamahere found me. But even with that knowledge, you can't find her. I _had _to live. So, I did what I had to in order to ensure that I would. Now I'm stuck here."

There was silence in the room for a while. Afaitu was content to let the other man regain his composure.

"Did anyone ever look? Find anything? Surely they looked for the shipwreck?"

Afaitu shook his head. "They searched, if only briefly all those years ago. Nothing was found. But if you don't know, how are you going to find her?"

"I'll recognize it when I see it. I plan to hire a plane or ship and search the general area. I know I'll be able to find her. I have to. But I can't do it from inside this shithole."

"Yes, I know. We cannot bring her back until we have you free. Thus, we have decided to reveal your true identity."

"How are you going to do that? No one believed me when I told them who I was. I doubt that they'll believe a convicted man any more than a castaway. And we'll attract the wrong kind of attention with that kind of statement."

"Ah, but you are not going to be the one proclaiming your identity."

"Who will? They'll dismiss Tamahere as a crackpot, if they don't outright kill him first."

"No, it cannot be Tamahere. He is expendable, just like you are currently. We _must_ make it so they cannot kill you without great consequence. Once your true identity is known, we can get you free and start the search for Kate. It will have to be quiet. You will have to play a role. It seems best that initially you tell the world that you've been alone this whole time."

Rick thought this over. He knew if they suspected Kate to be alive they would also start searching for her. And with the resources they had at their fingertips they would likely find her before he could. She would disappear, and he'd have lost the person who meant the most to him in the world.

"So, what if I say that I woke up from my concussion and found myself alone on the _Iriata_? That I made my way off to a deserted island and survived alone all these years until I was found drifting on that leaky boat?"

"Yes, that could work. It has the advantage of having elements of the truth. However, you will have to play the role of a man happy to be reunited with the rest of them. I have no doubt they will try to use this as positive publicity, once they overcome the small matter of having convicted you of claiming to be yourself."

Rick grimaced, then spoke in as serious a tone as Afaitu had ever heard him use. "I will do anything I have to in order to save her. Even if I have to lick that toad's shoes. I am the son of an actress; I can play my part."

"Speaking of which, I wanted to talk to you about your mother."

"Excuse me? What does she have to do with this?"

"I believe she is crucial in getting you exonerated."

Rick looked at the man skeptically. Afaitu continued, needing Rick to accept this part of the plan. He would be the only means that Afaitu could approach Martha Rodgers.

"Think about it, Rick. She is the key to setting you free. If she were to declare that you were her son, they could not keep you here. We must get her to identify you."

Rick's look turned bitter. "She never answered any of the letters I sent. I wrote her several times after I regained consciousness in the hospital, and they were all ignored."

"Do you think she got them?" Afaitu held the other man's gaze for a moment. "Look, _they_ didn't know what you were going to say to her. They surely didn't want you declaring that her son was alive and having her run down here to confirm it. They needed you out of the way. I'm sure they never allowed any of those letters to leave the hospital, just so they could control the situation. It worked."

Rick buried his head in his hands for a few seconds, rubbing his eyes. When he looked up Afaitu saw the bitterness had faded, but not disappeared.

"I tried calling her. One of the nurses let me use the phone once. I dialed our old number, but it wasn't her. I couldn't get through to her, couldn't find a way to contact her."

Afaitu thought for a while before he spoke. "I know that must have been devastating. But with modern computers, the internet, the information age, I hope to find a way to contact her."

"Martha Rodgers isn't exactly a unique name. She was an actress before I disappeared. She probably had me declared dead, and has been living the high life since then. She was my only heir, and if she died, all the money was to go to charity. Oh god, what if she's dead?"

Afaitu regarded him with sympathy. "So you don't know?"

"Know what? She is dead?!"

"No, she's _definitely_ not dead. You don't know about what she's been doing since you disappeared?"

"How could I? She wouldn't write me back, though I agree she probably never got my letters. There's no real library, to speak of, here in the prison, and what news I do get is all about Tahiti or France. Why? What's she been up to?" His stiff posture showed he was suspicious of the news. He had clearly been hurt by the lack of support from his mother, though Afaitu was certain she had no idea her son was alive.

"I've been looking into her life. Google is full of news about her. She is quite famous, on her own merits. For the first few months after your disappearance she traveled here several times, offering rewards for information on your fate, the location of the wreck. Nothing substantial ever turned up and she's not been here since. Too painful I suspect. She returned to New York, and was a few years later declared to be a major star after a much lauded role on Broadway. She won a Tony, then started getting offers for movie roles. She's gone on to win two Oscars and is quite famous. She has never needed nor used your money, as far as I can tell."

Rick's expression had gone from disbelief to shock to disbelief again.

"She looked for me?"

"Yes."

Rick collapsed his head to the desk at this simple answer. She had looked for him. He'd spent hours thinking the worst of her. Undeserved, uncharitable thoughts. She was a victim as much as he was in this whole mess.

"There is still a standing offer of a reward for information that would lead to your return. After the article claiming you were Richard Rodgers was published, they likely took several measures to minimize the damage. Worried someone would contact her in an attempt to collect the reward. I suspect that while you were recuperating in the hospital, she may have gotten a call from them. Saying that you were a crazy man looking for the reward, and not to take your calls or listen to you."

Rick nodded, agreeing. It did make some sense, in a convoluted fashion.

"That's why they wouldn't let the press print any pictures of you but the one when you were first rescued. You were a mess; no one could have recognized you, especially when they all thought you were long dead. Of course, you couldn't reach her, so it was a moot point in the end. But if she _were _to hear of your 'discovery', then they would simply tell her you'd been tried and convicted for fraud, among other offenses. And they'd show her the one picture of you, taken when you first got off the ship. Emaciated, ill, suffering from amnesia. No way anyone, even your own mother, would have recognized you. Who knows, they may have even photoshopped it to make sure she didn't."

"They sent a man, someone I didn't know," Rick mumbled. He knew they would be desperate to keep his true identity a secret, but hadn't considered the lengths they'd go to in order to prevent his own mother from learning about him.

"He said I'd be dead in days if I didn't cooperate. Which meant I had to shut up and accept the prison sentence. I couldn't risk dying, not before I find Kate. But you don't think my mother would have had the least curiosity, the hope that I was alive if she'd heard about the trial? Surely she must have heard something."

"No, I'm sure she wouldn't have put any stock into the rumors, if she heard them. They would have reassured her you were a fake."

"Why would she believe them?"

"Why would she not? She has been dealing with them for ten years. Everyone believes their version. Who are you, but a nearly dead man found floating in a boat? Look what they have achieved while you were gone. Who would you believe?"

Rick dropped his head, defeated. He'd wanted to blame his mother, at least a small part of him, for not recognizing him. For not rescuing him. Yet, she was a victim of theirs as well. One in a long line of victims, it seemed. "How do we get her to believe us now?"

"She moved back to New York last winter, after living for years in Los Angeles. I have booked a flight to New York, and will track her down in person. I want _you_ to write a message to her. One that will leave no doubt that you're indeed alive."

Rick nodded. That could work. There was a shared history that he could call on that no one else on earth knew about. Little things when he was a child that she would recognize immediately. "And then?"

"And then we will come back together. I'll bring her to the prison, have her meet you. She'll identify you. I'll arrange to have some press here, have them publish the story immediately. We have to make it mushroom so rapidly that they cannot cover it up. Make it so they would only harm themselves if they ignore her, ignore you. It must be done quickly, but quietly, in the beginning. It would be too easy for you to accidentally die in the time it took us to get here if they know she is coming."

"So she identifies me and we get the news out to the rest of the country rapidly. Then what? Would they set me free immediately? And how will they act around me?"

"I don't know if they'll set you free immediately, but I hope they would. You're famous, your mother is famous. It would behoove them to act rapidly. They will try to spin it all to their advantage, and you will start playing your role. A man happy to be back, alone for so many years. One who awoke alone on a sinking ship and escaped against all odds."

"Won't people wonder why I changed my plea to guilty?"

"I'm sure they will. How would you answer that question?"

"That—that I realized no one believed me. That I'd been so delirious at the end of my time on the ocean, I thought I really might be a fraud? And by the time I got my head screwed on straight, I was already here in jail. So, I hoped my mother would come and proclaim my true identity. And you, as my lawyer, helped facilitate it all."

Afaitu gave him a slap on the shoulder, in approval. He had thought about the question that would certainly be raised at some point, but hadn't come up with a good solution. The answer Rick gave was close enough to the truth that no one would likely question its veracity.

"I think it will work," Rick said slowly. "Though there are a lot of chances for it to all go to hell."

"It will work. They won't know what hit them, and then they'll have no choice but to cooperate."

Rick nodded, already thinking about what he would put in the message to his mother. He was so stunned to hear about the success she'd found. It was amazing to contemplate, the life she must live now. All he wanted was for her to wrap him in her arms, like she did when he was a boy, and tell him it was all going to be okay. Because he kept seeing Kate's eyes staring at him whenever he closed his own. She was depending on him. He had to save her. There was no other option.

Rick quickly wrote out the message. He knew she would accept it as coming from him, once she read it. He just hoped the rest of the trip would be as successful.

"Done. And here are the next chapters of our story that I've written."

Afaitu placed the papers in his briefcase, then regarded Rick again.

"I hope you are prepared for the level of attention this is going to generate. You're a best-selling author who is back from the dead after ten years. Your mother is a world famous actress. And the response to this story will be _nothing_ compared to what will happen when the full truth comes out and Kate is revealed."

"Believe me, if we could do it without any attention from the press I'd be happy to leave them out. It doesn't sound as if that's an option."

"No. Even without your celebrity, or that of your mother, we would still have to deal with them. _They_ embraced the attention ten years ago, and won't shun the spotlight now. It will be their downfall."

"What happened back then? I've heard the basics, but the details are lacking. No one in the prison is too willing to talk to me, so I've had a hard time gleaning the truth on that score."

Afaitu looked into the distance, eyes unseeing as he remembered those exciting days when the survivors had been found. He had been a young man, just a few years younger than Tamahere. The news had occupied daily life in Tahiti for weeks.

"They had been adrift for many days. Tane and Tamahere tried to get a fix on their location, but without charts it was difficult. Neither was very familiar with that area of the sea. Thanks to the fact that it was the rainy season they were able to stay hydrated; they rationed food and caught some fish as well. They were at sea for some three weeks before they were found. Tamahere was quite ill, probably due to something he'd eaten. He was in bad shape, in and out of consciousness. It was said that Grollet took over control and guided them, through his skill and daring, to their rescuers."

Rick snorted. "Skill? That man didn't know one end of a boat from the other."

"Nonetheless, that is the story, and Tane backed him up. Once they were rescued, Grollet told his story to anyone who would listen. How he had saved the lives of the other two in the lifeboat. How after the shipwreck he had acted to save their lives and had deeply lamented leaving your body and Kate's behind. When he found out who you really were, that you were famous and not just some low ranking crewman, he was especially remorseful in public that he'd left you behind."

"I'll bet. The weasel. He knew we were both alive and left us to go down with the ship."

"I know that, now, and you know that, but the rest of the world was fed a different story. And they lapped it up like crazy. He was a real life hero, and by the time Tamahere finally regained enough of his senses, the story was far too famous for any real facts to derail it. Grollet was celebrated all over Tahiti, written about all over the world. Every man, woman and child in the islands knew his story. Tamahere faded into the background, lost for several years in a cycle of substance abuse. Then he disappeared completely, fading into the jungles of Huahine Iti. Grollet's star ascended higher and higher as he leveraged his fame into true power. He brought Tane along with him: his own tame lap dog that would do anything for his master."

"And his fame led him to politics?" asked Rick.

"Of course. What else would you expect of a man made famous by a lie? Join those who spin lies for a living. He had pulled the wool over the eyes of a nation with tales of his derring-do. Why not continue?"

"So he used the fame from his supposed heroics to move up the political ranks of Tahiti, becoming what he is today?"

"Yes. The scandal from the revelation that he left _you_ behind will hurt him, though perhaps not fatally. Once Kate is found alive and tells her version of the events though…it will be a death blow. And he'll take Tane with him. He'll be ruined. All because his act of cowardice will finally catch up to him. It seems like such a mundane thing, how it all started. If he had been a true man and simply tried to help you. If he'd never taken the key to her door. If he hadn't crowed so loudly about his supposed role in their survival. If he hadn't been so desperate to accept the accolades, and then use them to his advantage. If Tamahere hadn't been so ill, and would have been recognized as the man who actually piloted the lifeboat to safety. Alter any of these things, and he would not—could not—be what he is today."

Rick nodded; the gravity of the situation had been clear to him since he'd first really woken up and realized who Grollet was now, what kind of power he wielded over Rick, and by extension, Kate.

"The president of Tahiti," he whispered, careful even now to not attract unwelcome attention. The fucking president.

* * *

**French Polynesia is currently labeled an "overseas country" of France, **_**or pays d'outre-mer au sein de la République. **_**This allows a certain autonomy, and allows for opposing the application of laws passed by the French parliament that do not respect the areas of responsibility given to the island nation. **


	13. Chapter 13: Pt 2 Funny Finding You Here

**This chapter is dedicated to nire47. Most of our conversations have occurred on twitter, either in public or in DMs. She's followed my other stories, and always has interesting comments and questions. I feel very fortunate to have her in my corner, and I love wondering what she's going to say about each update. Thanks for the support and for keeping me on my toes!**

* * *

April, 2010

Rick had sat in his cell for hours after his lawyer left, motionless. Thinking. So much could go wrong. So much needed to go right. He felt himself being dragged down a long, black path once again, weighted down by his guilt at failing and his grief over being separated from her. What was she doing? Did she think he was dead? Would she try something foolhardy, desperate to escape the island as well?

He knew Afaitu would be gone for many days; the flight to New York was over half a day alone. It would do no one any good for him to sit and mope those days, worrying and waiting. So, he decided to start writing, continuing their story.

Less than half a page had been written when a shadow fell over him. Looking up, his eyes widened. A giant was looming, casting his huge shadow over Rick and the table where he sat. Rick stood. He was no small man. Over six feet and somewhat broad. He had nothing on this freak of nature. The other man appeared Polynesian, though much bigger than any Rick had ever met.

"Can I help you?" Rick asked after the giant just stood there, staring. He wasn't tattooed like a Marquesan. He had long, black hair pulled into a topknot before spilling down his back. He was wearing the standard prison uniform, though the poorly made khaki pants were straining to contain the man.

"I'm Salesi."

Rick stood, silent. He wasn't sure if this was a prelude to violence or not. Though if it were to be violence he would undoubtedly come out much worse for the wear. He decided to try the nice approach. "Ok, nice to meet you Salesi. I'm Ri…Dupont."

"I know who you are. Who you _really_ are."

Rick was speechless. No one had identified him, besides Tamahere. How would this giant man know him? "Who I really am? What do you mean?"

Salesi turned back and forth at a glacial pace, looking to make sure they were not being overheard or observed by any keen eyes. "You're Richard Castle, the author."

Rick nearly dropped to the ground. Most people in French Polynesia knew him as Richard Rodgers, as he'd used his real name while living here. He very rarely was referred to as Castle in the South Pacific. And here was this mammoth man doing just that.

"Why—why would you say that?" he squeaked.

"I like to read. A lot. I've read your books."

Good God, he'd found a fan. In prison. "You've read…my books?"

"Saw your picture."

"Oh." Oh.

"Knew it was you."

"Look, Salesi is it?" seeing a nod, continued, "it's just that I'd prefer not letting everyone else know who I really am. It's pretty important that no one knows I'm here. Understand?"

"Sure. Won't tell."

"Would you like to sit down?" Rick said, indicating the chair across from him. He didn't really expect the big man to acquiesce, despite the somewhat friendly greeting. The other prisoners treated Rick as if he had leprosy, now that he'd proven he was no pushover. He was the only one without a cellmate; his had left on day one, preferring to bunk with two others, rather than be associated with Rick's invisible taint.

So when Salesi actually sat down, actually appeared to want to talk to him, Rick was shocked.

Glancing around, Salesi again made sure no one was within earshot. Most of the other prisoners were currently in another room watching TV. No one was paying attention to either of them. The guards looked bored to tears, as usual.

"The guards are planning on taking your papers from you tonight," Salesi offered.

"How do you know that?" sputtered Rick.

"Overheard two of 'em talking," was the response.

Rick thought, worried. They wouldn't be able to read them, but he didn't want to have to rewrite it all. And if this became a regular pattern, he'd never get anything done.

"Why are you telling me?"

"Thought you should know. 'S'not fair, what they did."

"What's not fair?"

"Bogus trial. Messing you up."

"And you are here because….?"

The big man shrugged. "They messed me up too. Can't trust anyone here. But I'll trust you."

"Why?"

"Read your books. You are an honorable man. Couldn't write the way you do, otherwise."

Rick let the answer sink in for a while. The man seemed sincere. He wasn't about to confess his secrets to him, but it would be nice to have _someone_ in the place who wasn't trying to hurt him. "Okay, my friend of very short sentences. What do you suggest I do?"

"Give me pen."

Rick handed him a pen.

"Give me blank paper."

Rick handed the man some blank paper. And watched in disbelief as he started writing.

"What are you doing?"

"Writing."

"Yes, I can see that. Why?"

Salesi glanced up. "I write. You write. Night comes, we trade. Guards take my papers. I keep yours safe."

Struck by the simple kindness of the man, Rick just sat and stared at his new partner. Finally Salesi looked up. "Write."

"Right."

And so he did. That night, the guards did indeed take his papers. Taunting him, not bothering to even look at them, they crumpled them and threw them in the trash, then dumped the remains of the prison's dinner in the same bin. Rick pretended to be upset, knowing if he didn't they would be suspicious.

The next morning Salesi sat with him again, giving back his papers and starting a new set. Rick was able to continue the story safe in the knowledge that it was unlikely to fall in the hands of the guards, most of whom seemed quite fearful of the gentle giant who'd taken Rick under his wing.

Two days later Salesi moved his stuff into Rick's cell. Neither said anything; it just simply was. The rest of the prison took note of the new friendship and all remaining harassment of Rick ceased immediately. Salesi, who was also American by virtue of being born in American Samoa, brooked no disrespect towards himself or towards Rick. A lifelong friendship was thus born, in a place designed to destroy the souls of men.

* * *

December, 1999

He was cold. And wet. He figured he must have fallen asleep in the bow and was getting hit with sea spray. Though that didn't explain the grinding noises…it all clicked into his head in an instant. They were sinking; he had been going to check the life boat.

When he opened his eyes this time, he saw he was lying near the door to the back deck; rain was falling steadily into the open entry and he was getting hit with some of the drops as they bounced against the floor.

Groaning with the effort, he got to his knees. His head was still pounding, but the nausea seemed to have passed. He stood, swaying, and took stock of the situation. The sky was lighter and the rain had slackened compared to the last he'd seen it. Visibility seemed to have improved with the lightening rain.

He couldn't see the bow, but could see past the first two cargo holds. The ship still felt empty, but he decided to shout anyway.

"Hello? Anyone?"

No answer, and he discovered shouting made his head hurt. He contemplated going up to the second level and getting something for his head from Hina's stock, but decided his first priority was getting to the bow. Perhaps they were still there, waiting for him? He had no idea how much time had passed.

Not bothering to grab any supplies, he made his way outside and hooked into a jack line. The list of the ship combined with his head injury made the trip to the bow a thirty minute ordeal. As soon as he climbed the ladder and saw the life boat was gone, he collapsed to his knees and nearly slid into the crane base. There were no other life boats, though he knew there were some life jackets in a locker at the stern.

Allowing himself to despair for a few minutes, he slowly climbed to his feet again and started back on the dangerous return journey to the stern. As he shuffled along, he thought about what he might be able to do. The only bright spot was that the ship hadn't sunk yet. He wondered if they weren't stuck somehow on a rock; if so he might be able to wait the storm out and get a better idea of where he was once the skies cleared up.

Back in the saloon, he took the time to drink some water and dried off a bit with a towel he found flung on the floor of the bunkroom. Changing into dry clothes so he wouldn't get chilled, he then climbed up to the second floor to get something for his headache.

The second level looked horrible. The superstructure had twisted around itself, and beams were intruding into the hall and blocking some of the doors. The worst was the entry to the captain's cabin; they had left Arenui's body there. Rick felt his friend might not mind a burial at sea when the ship did finally sink.

Hina's workshop door was deformed but operable. A few violent pulls and he was in. He grabbed what he needed and swallowed it with the help of the water. Deciding to go back to the saloon for now, he turned and was walking to the stairs when he heard a sound. It sounded like sobbing.

* * *

Kate decided Elisabeth Kubler Ross had it all backwards. She'd been stuck on the anger stage after her mother's murder, and hadn't progressed past it despite nearly a year passing since Johanna's death. Now, facing her own death, she'd vacillated between acceptance, wanting to join her mother and leave behind the pain of her life since her mother's murder, and depression, after being purposefully abandoned by the rest of the crew. Anger made a strong showing whenever she thought of Grollet's rat-like face.

She was a strong person; the loss of her mother followed by her father's alcoholism had forced her to grow up faster than any of her friends. However, dying alone on a ship in the South Pacific was a burden that would crush the spirits of nearly anyone. No one would hear her cry, and she felt that she had the right to wail against the injustice of it all if she wanted.

Curled up next to the door, she let her tears flow. She cried for her mother, cried for her father. He would be alone now, and not likely to survive her loss so soon after Johanna's. She cried for the life she was going to be denied. The children she would never have; the friends, like Lanie, she was leaving behind.

She didn't hear the door being forced open near her; the grinding of the ship on its rocky mount covered the sound. However, she did not mistake the sound of a human voice soon after.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

It was a male voice, though her sobs and the constant metallic symphony masked the identity of the voice.

"Help! I'm in here!" She struck the door to make sure he could hear where she was.

"Kate?" The deep bass of what was unmistakably Rick's voice sounded, as though he was right next to her door.

"Rick! I thought you were dead!"

"Sorry to disappoint. Are you ok?"

"Definitely not disappointed. I thought I was alone on the ship."

"Is that why you're in your cabin?" He couldn't figure out why she wouldn't open her door and talk to him face to face.

"No. The door's locked. I'm trapped." She hit it again, but it still refused to yield.

"Where's the key?"

"I don't know. Pretty sure if I did, I wouldn't still be here." She failed to keep the exasperation from her voice.

"Then how'd it get locked with you inside?" He had a head injury, sure, but this was not making any sense.

"Grollet locked me in here. He didn't want me taking up valuable rations."

"Jesus," he swore softly. "That rat bastard. He left you behind knowing you were alive and well. He's a cold one, that's for sure. I'll bet he knew I was alive, too."

"You're right. He actually told me he found you in the bunkroom area and hit you in the head to make sure you weren't going anywhere either. Something about three people eating what five would have had been eating."

Rick was stunned silent for a minute, before letting loose with a string of curses that impressed even Kate, who'd spent a memorable few years as a teenage rebel cataloging as many colorful invectives as possible to shock her parents and awe her friends with.

"I'll kill that greasy, little jackhole, if it's the last thing I do," he finally vowed, running out of breath for any more colorful adjectives for Grollet.

"I'm totally with you here, but I was wondering if we could plan his death together."

"Huh?" The head injury was definitely not helping him process or follow her line of thinking today.

"Get me OUT, please. I don't want to drown while you're standing there discussing Henri's mother and the family dog."

"Oh, sorry. So, no key, huh?"

"No. Covered that topic already. No. Key."

He thought for a minute, or at least tried to. Incandescent anger and head injuries do not lead to logical thinking. He wanted to wring the bastard's neck. String him up by the balls. Punch him repeatedly. He was strong. He could hit it. Yeah, hitting was a good idea. He'd pretend the door was Grollet's slimy face and rescue Kate in the process. Problem. Solved.

"I'm going to try and open from out here." Several blows later it was still stuck tight. Though he felt a bit better for having done some violence against something, since Grollet wasn't immediately available.

"Hang on; let me look around for something that I can use."

"Don't leave me!" The panic in her voice was easily discernable, even through a door.

"I won't. I'm just going to find something to help pry the door open. Ok?"

"Ok." She tried to calm herself. He wouldn't abandon her like Henri had. She wasn't sure why she knew that, but she did. He would not let her die.

Just minutes later she heard a noise outside her door again.

"Stand away from the door. I grabbed the fire axe and I'm going to try and bust the door down."

She backed away, though the cabin wasn't large enough that she could completely escape. Picking up a sheet from the bed, she draped it over her head to protect herself to some degree from flying splinters.

"Ready!"

"Ok, here goes nothing." He started pounding on the door. After it didn't pop open after the first few hard strikes she began to think even this would be all for naught. However, about five minutes later she could hear and feel wood splintering as he continued his furious assault. A few more blows and there was a sudden loud groan and the door collapsed, falling within inches of her legs. She pulled the sheet off and looked up at the entrance. Rick stood there, dirty and bleeding from various scrapes. He held the fire axe loosely in both hands and looked at her with a maniacal grin.

"Here's Johnny."

She collapsed into laughter. She couldn't help it. After the stress of the ship wreck and thinking she was abandoned to drown alone, this ridiculous man broke down her door and could still joke around. She would think she was dreaming except that even her imagination was not capable of making up something like this.

* * *

She wasted no time leaving her cabin; she never wanted to feel trapped like that again. Turning to Rick, she gave him a big hug. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"No problem. I moonlight as a knight in shining armor," he rumbled, eyes betraying how glad he was to find he wasn't alone, and that she really was ok.

"Or just the guy from The Shining," she laughed. "Either way, you definitely saved me, and I'm quite grateful."

"Just how grateful are you?" he asked, suggestively.

"Grateful enough to realize you've got a head injury, so I'll let that remark pass. Now, what's next?"

"C'mon, let's go to the saloon," he said, turning without waiting to see if she would follow. Though what choice did she have at this point?

The saloon was empty; she knew the others had probably left hours ago, though time had been difficult to track in her state of rage against Henri.

"So, they're really gone?" There had been a filament of hope, though only nanometers thick, that she'd somehow misinterpreted Henri's declarations. That it had all been a big joke to play on the American passenger. That thread was now snapped. It had been spun of fool's gold anyway.

He looked at her with a penetrating stare that pierced her soul.

"Gone."

"They left us? Why would they do that?"

"I don't know. I was in my bunk one moment, then we struck something and I was flying through the air. Hit my head, and apparently had another blow thanks to our friend. Woke up in the bathroom and couldn't find anyone else. I was here in the saloon about to head out to the bow and look for the life boat and others when the ship moved and I was knocked out again. I came to about an hour and a half ago."

"How are you feeling now?" Head injuries could be dangerous, and God knows they needed their wits about them.

"It's getting better. After I went and checked the bow, I went up to Hina's workshop and grabbed some painkillers. I'm not nauseous and haven't thrown up. I think I'll be fine."

"You said you went to the bow?" She understood what he meant by gone, but she was hoping she'd misunderstood.

"Yeah, they're gone. No idea how long ago they left."

"Well, I'm not sure either. It seemed like hours passed after Henri locked me in my cabin."

He looked at her again with that intense look. How had she ever thought he was of below average intelligence? The man was perhaps the most perceptive person she had ever met.

"I'm sure he told Tamahere that we were dead. There's no way that he'd leave without me."

"How do you know that Tamahere is alive? Maybe he died too? Or Grollet killed him?"

"I've looked around; no other bodies. And Grollet needed either Tamahere or me to navigate, as best as possible. Tane is no true sailor. So I'm sure Tamahere is ok, otherwise I'd be on that boat."

She nodded. It made sense. She wouldn't have contributed anything, and Grollet had been pissed at her rejection of his advances the other night. She relayed her suspicions to Rick, whose anger grew even hotter when he found out what Grollet had done to her that fateful night.

"He must have taken my key then, planning to sneak into my room. But then his own stupidity interfered and Anapa was injured. He never had an opportunity to use it again, until he saw how he could improve his chances of survival."

"I swear right now that man will pay for what he's done to us."

Kate agreed, but now was not the time. Revenge is a luxury for those with time to spare.

"What do we do next? Is there another life boat or raft on board?" She wasn't eager to get into a tiny life raft given the waves and the storm, but anything was better than sinking with a ship.

"No. There's nothing else. I'm sorry." His downcast eyes showed he wished he had better news.

She collapsed into a chair; the angle the boat rested at made sitting in it awkward, but it was better than the floor. Had she escaped her tiny prison for nothing? Traded in a death alone, for one with him? At least she wouldn't be by herself.

"What can we do?"

"Well, the good news is that we struck this rock or whatever it is hours ago, and we haven't sunk yet. I think we're stuck on it. So, it's unlikely the ship will suddenly sink. I would say we might be able to wait out the storm, wait for the visibility to improve. Maybe there is somewhere nearby we can get to, or another ship near us."

"Ok, makes sense. Do you think it's safe to stay in the saloon? Or the bunkhouse?"

"The way the ship is tilted, I think I'd rather be in the saloon. The recliners aren't bad, or we could drag some of the mattresses from the bunkhouse and put them next to the door to the back deck."

Deciding that was the smartest thing to do, they drug two mattresses up near the dining tables. Kate made them up with some dry sheets and blankets while Rick got the life jackets out of the locker; there were four of them. He grabbed them all, just in case.

"I know these aren't comfortable to wear while lying down, but I think it would be a good idea to keep them on," he told her. She was placing some of the unspoiled fruit and bottles of water out on one of the tables for their first meal in hours.

"Have you been up to the bridge?" she asked.

"No. Not since I came to."

"I wonder if the radio works? Or if the vantage would let us see further?" The rain had slowed a bit.

"Those are good questions." He looked at his watch. It was now supposed to be eight in the evening, so the viewpoint wouldn't help. The sun set just after six this time of year. "Let's get some food, then I need to rest for a while. We'll climb up there for sunrise tomorrow."

She nodded and they ate in silence. Rick was finally feeling almost back to normal, although a dull ache in his skull reminded him of his head injury.

After cleaning up, they used the facilities, as best they could. Kate went upstairs, as that toilet was not tilted as badly as the bunkhouse. Rick decided to pee off the side of the boat, rather than go back in the bathroom he'd been trapped in. Back in the saloon, they settled down on the mattresses. For the first time since the whole ordeal had hit her, Kate felt like she would get through this nightmare.

"Rick? Are you still awake?" she whispered a few minutes after lying down.

"Yeah, I'm awake," he grunted back.

"I just wanted to say thank you, and that I'm glad you're here with me."

It was silent for a minute, and she thought perhaps he had fallen asleep anyway, until his voice whispered back.

"I'm sorry you're here. I wish they had taken you in the life boat, because we are facing a huge challenge. But I'm glad I'm not alone, and I'm glad that I'm here with you."

She smiled. There were thousands of places she'd rather be, but she felt safer knowing Rick was with her. She drifted to sleep without the gripping panic over her situation she'd had earlier. She was certain that morning would bring them better news. Together they would make it.

* * *

**Picture of how I envisioned Salesi is on Tumblr. Think Jason Momoa as Ronon Dex on Stargate: Atlantis or as Khal Drogo on Game of Thrones. **


	14. Chapter 14

**This chapter is dedicated to CharacterDriven. A reader pretty much from the beginning of this tale, I look forward to seeing any reviews from her. Always positive, she also will let me know if I've made a mistake or written something that doesn't sound right. Constructive criticism is what makes me better as an author, so I welcome it all. And she does it in a way that makes it a positive, not a negative experience. Thanks for all your support!**

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**I am flying to my hometown, Spokane, tomorrow, then heading with sisters and their families to far northern Idaho. There is no Wi-Fi and spotty cell coverage. I will try and post Chapter 15 on Saturday, before we leave, but depending on how busy we are I'm afraid it won't be a priority. I return to civilization on Sunday, the 22****nd****. I will definitely start posting every 2 days again at that point. If I'm not eaten by a grizzly. If I am, Garrae has promised to finish my little tale.**

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December, 1999

Something was different, though in his exhausted, head injured state Rick couldn't figure out what it was. He was in bed, sleeping. Felt like he could easily sleep another ten hours. He didn't need to pee and no one had woken him up. He was uncomfortable from sleeping on something around his neck, but not enough to wake him up. Hmm.

The grinding of metal on rock brought him closer to consciousness. Remembered they'd wrecked. That he and Kate had been left behind for some reason. That he was sleeping in a life jacket. That they needed to get off the boat, somehow. All of that was bad, but it wasn't what was bothering him. However, it was enough to buoy him further to the surface.

There was the grinding noise again. It was periodic; every time a wave hit the ship, it ground against the rock that had ripped it open. But in between was…silence. Suddenly awake, Rick sat up. His head still ached a bit but the pain was manageable. He looked at the mattress next to him. Kate was still sleeping, wrapped in her sheets.

He looked at his watch with its luminous face. It was four thirty in the morning. The sun would be up in about forty five minutes. There was still no light that he could see; dawn and twilight near the equator are fairly short due to the perpendicular angle of the sun to the horizon.

The periodic grinding broke him from his reverie and he suddenly realized why he'd woken. The silence between waves…the rain had either stopped or slackened tremendously. He stood up carefully and walked the mere step to the doorway leading to the rear deck. There was an audible pitter patter now, but it sounded like it was just drizzle. Nothing like what they'd lived through so far. He hoped that meant that visibility would have improved significantly, once the sun broke the horizon. Just to be able to see the sun, after days in the grip of the cyclone, would be uplifting.

Grabbing some more water and granola, he set up a breakfast of sorts for the two of them. She looked very peaceful lying there; he hated to wake her up, but knew she would be angry if he didn't include her in the day's discoveries. Not to mention if she woke up while he was up on the bridge and found herself alone again. No, he wouldn't do that to her.

"Kate. Time to wake up."

She stirred, but then settled back into slumber. He decided to jostle her, but wasn't keen to shake her by her shoulders. He'd seen men in the bunkhouse come up swinging when awakened that way. Instead, he used his left foot to shake her mattress as he called to her again.

"Kate. Wake up. I have breakfast."

"Wha.." She sat slowly up, wiping her eyes. She was adorable in this half sleep state. Not that he cared about that.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

"What time is it?"

He looked at his watch again.

"Four forty in the morning. Sun will rise in about forty minutes."

"Can't I sleep until then? God, Rick."

"Not a morning person, huh? Well, I noticed the rain has lightened considerably. We should start seeing some light about twenty five minutes before sunrise and I was hoping to go up to the bridge. Plus we can check if the radio is working."

That got her decided attention. Throwing off her sheets, she stood up with far more grace than he had (though she had no head injury…) and moved to the table.

"I wish we had coffee."

"Yeah, well I wish we hadn't wrecked. Can't have everything."

She glared at him for a second and then gave a snort. "True enough, Rick. I just feel like I'm not awake until I've had some coffee."

"Well, unfortunately you're going to have to forgo it until we find civilization again. Maybe tomorrow we'll be able to drink a cup of coffee and forget this whole experience."

"That'd be nice." She dug into the granola, and grabbed some fruit as well.

Once they were done it was near the time they could expect to see some light start to push the inky black from the sky. Rick couldn't see any stars, so it was obviously still cloudy, but the rain was barely noticeable. He led Kate up the stairs to the bridge.

She ran into his back when he stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs.

"What the hell, Rick?"

He didn't answer, just stared in despair at the wreck that had been the bridge. The twisting of the superstructure after the ship had struck the rock was most severe here at the top of the stack. The entire far side of the bridge looked as though it had been folded over. They could still walk in to the part nearest the stairs but most of the structure was destroyed. Including the area where the radio had been located. There would be no help from that quarter.

The window that had commanded a vast view during happier days was shattered and only the half nearest the stairs was still visible. It was enough to look out, though the view was lower than it would be normally due to the list of the ship and the twisted wreckage of the superstructure.

"Rick, move!" She was pushing at him, though ineffectually since his mass far outweighed hers. However, he did move forward to let her in off the stairs.

"Holy shit."

His thoughts exactly. He remained silent, still taking it all in and the implications of not being able to contact anyone.

"Rick, where is the radio? I don't see it." She was looking at him with hope; expectation. Which he was about to crush. Like the _Iriata_ had been crushed.

He raised his hand and pointed it at the wreckage. And watched her face as she followed the direction of his arm. Her look went from hopeful to devastated as she took in the destroyed portion of the bridge.

"We're fucked," she finally said. Not far from his thoughts, honestly.

"Maybe. Let's see what we can find once there is enough light." He felt he had to be optimistic in the face of disaster. As the last crewman on the ship, she was his responsibility. And God knew he wanted to get them both to safety.

They moved to the window, eyes straining to part the darkness. As the minutes passed, it changed slowly from black to grey, lightening almost imperceptibly. Finally there was enough light to see as far as the bow and the immediate ocean. The first thing Rick noted was that there were rocky outcroppings all along the portside of the ship. Which was the direction they were listing towards.

"My God, no wonder we wrecked. Look at them all," Kate said. It looked like they'd happened upon a veritable rock garden in the middle of the ocean.

Rick peered unsuccessfully at the horizon beyond the rocks. "You know, with this many rocks sitting here, I wouldn't be surprised to find an island or two nearby. We may be closer to being rescued than we thought."

That cheered Kate up immediately. The loss of the radio had been a blow, but the thought of being on solid ground by the end of the day was enough to overcome the loss. They'd just have to get the attention of someone in another way.

Within five minutes they could see the silhouette of a dark mass. It was difficult to judge distance given how dark it remained, but it appeared to be no more than half a mile from them. It faced east from their position, so the rising light kept the details hidden from them for the moment. However, Rick was certain it was an island. That was all that mattered for now.

Kate was beyond excited to see the dark outline of an island take shape in front of them as the light previewed the slow rise of the sun from its long journey below the horizon. Rick had been right; there was an island nearby. She couldn't wait to set foot on a surface unmoved by the action of the sea. There would be hot food. And a proper bed. They were simple requests, but would be heaven on earth.

"So, which island is it?" She hoped it had a big enough village to support a coffee shop or two. And a hotel with vacancies.

"I have no idea. Maybe when the sun is up and I can see it properly. It still looks so dark; can't make out any features."

The slight rain, present since he'd awakened, knew it was beaten when the burning disk of the sun broke the horizon. As the clouds lifted and the first real rays of the sun were emitted, Rick examined the island. The light brought out some details obscured by the dark slumber of the night. It was a roundish shape, as many were in the South Pacific. They were the summits of gigantic submarine mountains formed by volcanic activity. The craters evolved into lagoons for many of the islands, and the soil was rich for growing crops.

The top of this island was crowned with greenery; it was certainly lush up there. However, Rick had a growing sense of dread as he took in the rest of the details the sun had revealed. The island seemed fairly tall, with steep walls rising out of the sea until they were halted some hundreds of meters in the air. He could not see any wall that was not a sheer, rocky face. Nor did he see any beaches. And the whole uninviting edifice was surrounded as far as he could see by the sharp rocks that had been the _Iriata's_ undoing. Unless there was a welcoming harbor on the other side of the island, it was almost certain to be uninhabited. Too much trouble to get to it by boat.

"Do you see any other boats? Or houses? They'll probably notice us soon out here and send a boat to rescue us, right?" Kate was too inexperienced in the ways of the South Pacific to recognize this forbidding rock was not going to be the haven onto which she had pinned her hopes.

"Kate," he said softly. He hated to interrupt, disappoint.

"I wonder how we'll get back to Papeete? I don't love the idea of another boat, but I haven't seen any planes yet. Maybe around the other side."

"Kate," he said in a louder voice.

"We'll need to find a hotel, then get word to the coast guard about the guys in the lifeboat. Though maybe they've already picked them up. Just think, we all might be sitting on a beach tonight and talking about…"

"KATE." He hadn't wanted to interrupt, but she was getting too carried away.

She gave him a hurt look, and he felt like a jackass all over again. Especially with what he had to tell her. Well, point out. Wasn't like he'd done it on purpose, though he wasn't sure she'd maintain that particular perspective.

"What!?" He'd interrupted her little fantasy, then stood there seeming undecided how to proceed. Such a strange man sometimes.

"Look at the island," he said, gesturing to the east. Some might call it a cowardly move; he called it self-preservation.

"I _am_ looking at it. I _was_ looking at it. So?"

"Look at the walls."

"What do you mean? The come up out of the sea and…and, and they rise up…and, oh." She trailed off, disappointment rising into her face.

"This side of the island doesn't seem to have much to offer in terms of habitable land," he said, hoping she'd understand. He didn't want to crush all of her hope at once.

"Yes, I see what you mean. They seem awfully steep. Do you think it's better on the other side?"

"I don't know. But this looks like a younger island and they tend to have the steepest walls. Anapa taught me there are several large islands out in the sea that are so new that they are too difficult to navigate safely. They are uninhabited. This might be one of them."

"Oh." One syllable was all she needed. But she couldn't give up so easily.

"So there might not be any people there? No one will know where we are?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to answer.

"Is there any chance the other side is better?" She wouldn't let go of the dream without a fight.

He nodded again. "There is a chance. However, on this side there are clearly dangerous rocks that will take out most ships. If the island were inhabited, I would expect to see some warning buoys out here. But there's nothing. Not a single sign of another person."

By now the sun's disk had cleared the horizon in full and was making its slow ascent into the heavens. The rain had been driven away and visibility seemed almost limitless. Rick looked in vain for other islands close by. But there was nothing. All their hopes lay on that one forbidding mountain.

"Let's go and see what we can learn about the rock that the ship is caught on. It might give us an idea of how much time we have," he said to her. She looked near tears, staring at the impenetrable walls of the island.

He turned, expecting her to follow; she did. She seemed almost at a loss how to respond to their situation, and he decided if he could focus her on the task at hand, namely getting them off a terminally wounded ship, she would come around. Get back to the feisty woman he'd met just a week or so ago.

The list of the ship actually helped him to see the giant underwater rock that was clutching the boat so greedily. It spanned the length of three of the cargo holds and he knew in an instant the only reason they were still above water was the fact that some of the rock lay below the ship, cushioning it in a macabre sense. He felt panic rising again; he hadn't been able to see the moon phase last night due to the persistent rain clouds.

"What is it?" His panic must have registered on his face, enough for her to notice. No sense in keeping her in the dark; she was a part of this as much as he was.

"I don't know what phase of the moon we're in." His head injury made the last few days fuzzy, and he just couldn't remember what the moon phase had been. There was a blank look on her face; not surprising, he'd known she wasn't familiar with the ocean. He hadn't been either, until he'd found his way to Anapa.

"It looks like part of this rock is submerged. The ship essentially ran aground on it and we are stuck up against it."

"Right, I can see that, more or less. What does the moon have to do with that?"

"The tides are affected heavily by the moon. You know about high tide and low tide, right?"

"Yes, more or less. High tide happens twice a day?"

"Right. But the phase of the moon also influences how high a high tide rises in terms of height and how low a low tide falls. A high tide is at its maximum height during a full moon or a new moon. That's called a spring tide. It's at its lowest height during a first and third quarter moon, called a neap tide."

"Okay, I knew the moon influenced the tides, but I didn't realize it was a huge difference."

"Yeah, it's pretty important, and all navigation charts include markings that you have to adjust for the tidal phase. Depending on the tide cycle, you can accidentally beach a boat if you're not careful. What I'm worried about is that if we're currently in a neap tide phase. That is when the tide height is the least variable. In other words, the height difference between high tide and low tide is the smallest. Spring tide means there's a huge difference between high tide and low tide, in terms of water height."

"So, you're saying that the _Iriata_ has been stuck on this rock for several tide changes."

Rick nodded, encouraging her to think it through.

"And if we're in a neap tidal phase, then that might explain why we haven't sunk yet? There's not enough difference between the height of the water during low and high tide to float the ship off the rock we're stuck on?"

"Exactly. Which means, once a spring tide cycles around the water may very well be high enough to move the ship off the rock. The hole that I imagine has been ripped open will sink her immediately."

"So, we have to get off of this ship?" she asked, knowing the answer before he gave it.

"Yes. The sooner the better."

"And our nearest refuge will be that island?"

He nodded, not giving voice to his fear that there was no way to get _on_ the island, with its steep, rocky sides. "Yes."

"Then we better get busy."

She was right. They had a lot to do if they were going to survive.

* * *

Rick had her start sorting food and water into a pile. He also asked her to gather all the sheets, blankets, towels and clothes that she could find. In the meantime, he decided to go below decks and see how large the hole was. It was worse than he'd feared, though there was not as much water in the hold as he'd expected. The bilge pumps seemed to work, so he started them up and just left them to run. Burning out their motors wouldn't matter at this point.

The next order of business was to find a boat to get them to the island. Or rather, to build them one. He threw the covers off all the cargo holds, remembering that there were some fifty five gallon barrels in one of them. He found ten of them in the hold nearest the bow; convenient. They held what appeared to be water, so he emptied them, filling as many smaller containers that he could find and dumping the rest of the precious liquid. He had to have them empty for his plan to work, but he knew throwing away water was potentially a fatal maneuver. Once they were empty, he used the crane to bring all ten of them to the bow.

There were wooden pallets in the next cargo hold; they had an assortment of tools for the new farm. Breaking open some of the packages, he rifled through them and took what he needed. He then lifted some of the pallets up to join the barrels in the bow.

He next started joining the barrels to the pallets to create a raft. Empty barrels are quite buoyant, and he knew the raft would float. Once he had a basic structure completed, he used some silicone caulking they had for ship repairs to seal the barrels and allowed himself to relax a bit. They now had a crude boat, and if worst came to worst they'd at least survive the ship sinking. He planned to use the life boat rigging to swing the raft off the ship when the time came to launch it, as it was too heavy for him to manage alone.

Soon after he completed the caulking he saw Kate walking to join him in the bow. Now that the ocean had calmed back to its usual placid state, walking along the tilted decking was much less dangerous. However, they still hooked into the jack line just in case a rogue wave hit and rocked the boat.

"Rick, can you lift this up?"

She was at the foot of the ladder and had a large sack she'd formed out of some sheets tied together. He leaned down and lifted it up; it was quite heavy.

"What's in here?"

"Water and food mostly. Wow, you've been busy," she said as she climbed up the rungs and joined him on the bow.

He explained how they would launch the raft and how he planned to add to the basic structure. She opened the sack she'd brought and handed him a water and some fruit, cheese and crackers she'd prepared before coming out to join him.

"I thought we'd have some lunch then get back to work."

"Great idea. So, I think the next thing to do is scavenge as much as we can from the ship. What kinds of things do you think we need?" He had already made some plans in his head, but wanted to include her.

"Well, basics first. Food and water to last a few days. I can see trees on the island, so there are probably some fruits there. But it might take a while to find a good place to land."

"Very good point. Water is the most important thing. Once we're there, if we can't find fresh water we can use the barrels to make solar sills and catch rainwater if there's no fresh water source. But that will take time. What else?"

"Well, the sheets and clothes will be handy. I thought it'd be a good idea to grab some of Hina's stock and her equipment. There are a bunch of tarps around, they would definitely be helpful. If we have time and room it would be nice to take some mattresses. That would be a luxury though. And I'm not sure what's in the holds besides the chickens."

"Ah, the chickens. I'd almost forgotten them. Hmm," he rubbed his short beard absently. "You know, taking some of the chickens would be a good idea. Enough to feed us if needed, and provide eggs if we find other sources of food."

She nodded. A secure food supply would help a lot.

"There are some seeds in one hold and some saplings. We'll take as much of those as we can. The seeds are sealed in their own barrels, so I'll float them behind us. There are some tools; most of which would be useful to us as they were for a new farm. Things like some machetes, saws, even a post hole digger. That will be really useful. There are various chisels and hammers, all of which we can use. I haven't really looked in the last hold much, so I'll go check it out after I finish the raft."

"I saw some rope in one of the lockers when I was rummaging around for sheets. That will definitely be handy. And I'll grab all the kitchen supplies I think we'll be able to use."

"Be sure you get as many knives as possible. Knives are worth their weight in gold on an island. There was a sharpening stone in with the tools, so we'll be able to keep things in good working order," he added. The sharpening stone was invaluable. Dull tools were next to useless.

"Got it. All the knives I can find. Should I bring stuff out here, or make a pile in the saloon?"

"Don't bring anything heavy. But if you can bring some of it out a little at a time, it will save us trips later."

"That makes sense," she said, looking back at the superstructure and hoping it would have all they needed.

"Ok. Just be careful going back and forth. Let me know if you need help carrying things."

"Sure. Oh, and Rick, which one was your bunk? I don't want to grab the wrong clothes."

"Mine was the top one on the right side as you enter from the saloon. But go ahead and grab everything that looks decent. We can find a use for them even if they don't fit."

The separated; he to finish the raft to ferry them and their supplies to what he hoped was truly a safe place, and she to start on the list of items they had discussed. He just hoped that in twenty four hours they'd be unloaded and in a safe place. The alternative was….well, he wouldn't consider it.

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**So, this island does not exist in real life. My criteria for this story was to find an area of the ocean that was very remote from shipping lanes and inhabited islands; they will be missing for 10 years after all. We'll read more about the island itself in coming chapters, but there is no such location in real life. It is a misrepresentation by necessity.**

**Also, I came up with this story based on several beloved books from childhood. One has an especially strong resonance here and in the next chapter. Any guesses?**


	15. Chapter 15

**This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful nephews, B and J. They've grown so much since I last saw them; it's hard living so far from my original home and missing out on their childhood, but that makes the time we do spend together that much better. They won't be reading this, for many reasons, but I wanted to dedicate this to them for all they do for me.**

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December, 1999

"Okay, lower it down," he called out.

"More to the right," he instructed.

"Your other right," he chuckled. Low enough she didn't hear the laugh. He wasn't stupid.

"Careful."

"Slower, slower," he yelled as she got a little overeager to lower the cargo down to him.

"Okay, great. Got it."

He grabbed the last of the chicken cages off the crane. Its occupant squawked loudly, unhappy with its rough handling.

"You know what, I'm trying to save your life. You'd think there would be some gratitude."

"What?" Her voice sounded far above him. She was in the bow lowering things, while he distributed their cargo around the raft. They'd finished gathering everything late last night and spent another tense night on the ship, still wearing life jackets.

The launch of the raft had been smooth, which made him nervous that the other shoe was still to drop. However, the empty barrels had made the raft ride quite high, and he'd not wanted her on it until they had loaded enough cargo to serve as ballast. He didn't want to take a chance on tipping the damn thing before they actually went anywhere.

They were now nearly done; he'd saved the chickens for last, tying their cages into a pyramid shape in the center. They'd been able to rescue twenty eight of them. Twelve had succumbed to the shipwreck. They would still serve their purpose, however. They had the carcasses salted and packed into a container. That had been Kate's doing; summers spent on a relative's farm when she was younger, coupled with a grandmother who believed everyone should know how to dress a chicken. Rick was impressed with her proficiency, as he'd never had the need to learn that particular skill.

"Nothing. I was talking to the chickens," he yelled back. His raised voice immediately started them squawking louder. Shit. Once the last chicken was secured, he clambered the rigging back up to the ship.

"Now we just need to wait for a flowing tide to carry us to the island. That's about three hours away." He'd kept a careful watch over the last two days on the current tides. The moon last night had been about three quarters, so they were in the midst of a neap tide. It had justified their frantic efforts to leave the ship as soon as possible.

"Well, we have time for the mattresses then?" She'd piled some at the stern, not sure they'd be able to take them.

"Yeah, and they'll make the trip more comfortable than sitting on the slats of the pallets. How many did you get?"

"Four. They're so thin; I thought it'd be ok."

He nodded, agreeing with her. He'd hoped to take them too, and had kept some space open for them. They were not thick, so there would not be a weight issue. The raft could hold several hundred more pounds and still be fine.

"Ok, time to just get them loaded and any personal stuff." He was planning on bringing his writing bag. He had quite a bit of blank paper in his cabin, as well as pencils and pens. They wouldn't take up much room and having them with him would be a balm against the challenging life he was imagining they would lead.

* * *

Two hours later they were ready. He had lowered her to the raft first, and then followed. They'd wrapped the mattresses in tarps, to keep them as dry as possible, and he'd grabbed some poles and a crude set of oars he'd made out of left over wood. Now they just needed to wait for the tide; it was slowly shifting. His craft was not pretty, by any means, but he was proud of all the work they'd done.

He'd added a rough looking outrigger to both sides to make sure it was stable. With all the rocks, he might end up regretting the extra width, but overturning would be disastrous from a cargo standpoint, so he'd decided it was worth the possibility of hitting something. The poles extended past the outriggers, which he'd rigged so he could cut them away if they got in trouble.

He looked at the _Iriata_, looming above him. He owed so much to the ship, and the family he'd formed on her. He hated that she had been mortally wounded; he would like to think that the old gal had held on long enough for he and Kate to leave safely, as a last act of heroism. She would carry so many memories into the deeps with her, as well as Arenui's body. Rick had stopped on the second deck, pausing outside the obstructed door to the captain's cabin where his friend's remains rested, to pay his respects before joining Kate for the final time in the bow.

"Goodbye old friends. May you both rest in peace in the cradle of Tangaroa's realm. We'll never forget the sacrifices you made to keep us safe and we'll honor your memory wherever we may land."

Kate couldn't help but overhear. She had a lump in her throat when she thought about how Rick must be feeling. She still didn't know his backstory, but the last few days had wrought major changes in his life, as well as hers. Of all the people in the world, she could understand that kind of change is difficult.

She remained silent out of respect. He shook his grief off a few minutes later and in a hoarse voice asked, "Ready?"

"Yeah, let's go." She had no idea if they were headed into disaster or salvation, but sitting around waiting was driving her crazy. She was eager to pit her body and mind against the sea and come out with a victory.

* * *

There were some dicey moments after Rick cast off from the _Iriata_'s bulk. He and Kate needed to find a rhythm, fast, or be dashed against the rocks. His commands were terse; tense with the looming catastrophe he kept imagining as they drifted by each potential disaster lurking in the depths, ready to catch them in a mistake.

As they settled down and started working together, he found she was very helpful. She rowed hard when needed, and had a good eye for submerged rocks that could puncture a barrel and spell their doom. The majority of rocks cleared after fifty feet or so. They found that they were in a shallower lagoon, though not like the atolls or lagoons of the rest of Polynesia. This one was still quite deep.

The island approached steadily as they were carried by the tide and their own efforts. As they neared he could see there were two narrow beaches on either side of a cleft in the walls. There were a few coconut trees scattered along the beaches, but little else to recommend them.

"Are we aiming for one of the beaches?" Kate didn't like the looks of the narrow strips of sand. They were far too small for her to imagine surviving on them for more than a few days.

"They don't look very inviting. Do you see the cleft? It might lead into the interior. Let's get closer and if it's no good we'll try and go around a bit to see if there's anything else for us."

"How long before the tide reverses?" She didn't want to be swept out to sea on this rickety raft.

"Another couple of hours. We have time as long as nothing happens to delay us."

With something specific to aim for, they redoubled their efforts and were soon nearing the cleft. As they approached, Rick made note of some nasty looking rocks on the left side. At first, he thought the opening was too narrow to even get the raft into, but as they approached the island he realized his perspective had been off. This island was even bigger than he'd thought.

The cleft was wide enough for five rafts, and as long as they avoided the rocks on the left it looked navigable.

"What do you think?" Kate had her doubts about the whole idea. Since it passed between the sheer walls of the island, there was little light to be seen past the entrance.

"I think we should check it out. It would be worth it if we can get into the interior of this island."

"Well, you're the captain of the raft. Just don't get us stuck." She would do what he wanted, but boy would she be pissed if they got stuck inside a dead end.

"Your confidence is so overwhelming Kate," he muttered.

"Just row. We need to remember the tide will be changing and I for one want to be on a solid piece of earth before that happens."

When they were finally in the mouth of the cleft, he saw it took a sharp turn left. They managed to navigate the turn, then found themselves drifting along an even wider channel. The light filtered down through an overhanging canopy of vines and leaves that screened the sky far above them. It was quite beautiful, with the softer light and calmer water making him feel as if they were canoeing along a tranquil river. Bird songs warbled through the air, making the whole scene seem as though they were in a movie traveling through a fantastical land. If they hadn't been worried about what lay ahead, they might have enjoyed it more.

The walls surrounding them were still incredibly tall, but as they meandered deeper into the island Rick thought they looked less intimidating. They were clearly not as tall as they approached what he thought was the interior of the island. However, the walls were still perpendicular to the water, making any attempt to land the raft impossible.

A few more turns and he saw the wall on the right side taking a steep dive towards the channel.

"Look Kate! I think it will be low enough to climb up if we don't find a landing spot."

Kate had to agree; it was looking promising. However, as they rounded yet another bend they burst through a final curtain of vines and out into a giant lake. In the distance a waterfall cascaded down the face of a steep spire of rock. The whole thing reminded Kate of a giant crater that enclosed a secret lake. The land surrounding the lake rose with varying steepness, though the entire outer border appeared to be made of the steep cliffs they'd seen from the outside.

There was a profusion of trees and shrubs covering every surface except for a clear boundary around the lake. It varied from a yard or two at most to what appeared to be several hundred yards on the shore to the right of the waterfall.

"Let's head to that area," Rick said, pointing to the largest clearing. As they got closer, the bottom of the lake sloped towards them. The water was so clear, it was easy to see the bottom.

"I'm going to jump off and tie the raft to that big rock there," he said pointing to a gigantic boulder near the shore.

The water was relatively warm, and came up just to his waist when he jumped overboard. He had the raft anchored in minutes, bobbing with the gentle waves of the large lake. He waded back out and pulled it to rest, careful not to scrape the barrels roughly. The shore here was a rough pebble surface, and he knew they would find the barrels invaluable for a wide variety of purposes if they were forced to survive long term on this uninhabited rock.

Kate jumped off and helped him, then turned without warning and gave him a hug.

"What was that for?" Not that he minded, but she hadn't been overly friendly on the ship.

"For getting me safely here. Thank you. I know you've worked hard to save us, and I'm grateful. Just wanted to let you know I appreciate everything you've done."

"You've played an important role too. Can I return the hug?"

"No, I think we're done. But we do need to start unloading."

"Spoilsport," he grumbled, not really serious. She was right, they needed to unload and he hoped to pull the raft higher onto the beach. Removing the cargo was a much simpler task than loading it had been. Kate was up on the raft and handed him things that he piled past the high water mark on the beach. The dark pebbles extended up past the water for about ten feet before giving over to a short, wavy grass, which in turn transitioned to a waist high grass that covered most of the remaining plain. There were a few scattered trees and palms on this plain before a solid mass of trees erupted several hundred feet away.

Rick wasn't sure this would be the best spot for a permanent shelter, but for now it was fine. Once everything save the chickens was off the raft, he had Kate start handing him cages. He piled them in a u shape, each cage on the ground on the short grass. He then returned to the raft and with Kate's assistance managed to roll the barrels of seeds that had floated behind them up onto the shore. Finally, they dragged the raft as far up the beach as they could.

By now it was nearly noon and the sun was beating down on them. Rick had worked up quite a sweat moving all the cargo.

"Before we do anything more, I want to cool off a bit. I'm going to take a quick swim," he said as he peeled his shirt off. He was in shorts, and while tempted, he thought better of skinny dipping. For now.

Kate glanced up as he spoke and was captivated by the sight of his naked trunk. The man had very well defined muscles, no doubt due to his life as a laborer. She was definitely a fan.

"Uh, I think I'm gonna take up walk up the shore for a bit. Stretch my legs."

"Suit yourself. See you back in half hour or so?" He waded into the lake after she nodded her assent.

* * *

"Where should we set up camp?" They had just finished a small meal and were ready to get back to work. Kate's explorations had included a walk along the shore towards the opening to the ocean. The tree line approached closely in places, but never completely encroached on the shore. She'd seen many palms with coconuts, as well as other types of trees she couldn't identify.

"Well, I thought we could set up camp for the time being here on this little meadow. Then we could start exploring in depth tomorrow and see what is available. Decide where to build a better shelter."

"What about the chickens?" she said gesturing at the cages. "They can't stay caged in the sun for much longer."

"You're right, I forgot about them. I was just going to open the cages and let them out."

"Won't they disappear? Or get eaten?"

"Nah. Chickens tend to stick fairly close to their coop, which for us is their cages. And there aren't any large predators in Polynesia."

"What about snakes?"

"Nope. Don't have them."

"Wow, I didn't know that."

"Yeah, no poisonous insects or snakes. It truly is paradise. Chickens will be fine. And I discovered the lake is basically freshwater while I was swimming. We'll just scatter a bit of grain for them and let them eat bugs. They should be pretty self-sufficient."

* * *

The first sign of trouble came about an hour later when he started to construct a shelter with the tarps. He didn't have time to take the wood pallets off the raft to serve as a floor, so just laid a tarp down flat. He then placed two mattresses on the tarp and was fixing some poles at each end of the tarp to serve as the vertical support when Kate took note of the nascent shelter.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a tent from the tarps. Should be decent shelter for now."

"No, I mean why are there two mattresses?"

"Well, there are two of us. But if you want to share, I'm totally fine with that."

"What made you think we'd be sharing a tent?"

He was dumbfounded. Why wouldn't they? He honestly hadn't considered any alternatives.

"We slept next to each other for the past two nights. Plus it's easier to make one shelter rather than two."

"It doesn't have to be fancy, Rodgers. Like how you've got two poles. Just use one at the entrance and let it fall down to the back. And give me my mattress; I'm not sharing your tent."

"Fine, suit yourself. But you're gonna want two poles." He tossed her a few tarps and shoved the mattress at her when she'd laid out a floor. She placed her tent about ten feet from his. He shook his head at her stubbornness and went about finishing his now solo tent.

She finished first, shaking her head at how exacting he was with the extra pole that she thought totally unnecessary. It left the back of his tent open, though she supposed it would be easy enough to cover with another tarp if needed. They'd been able to find eleven of them in total, of varying sizes.

"What's next, Robinson Crusoe?"

"I'm going to gather some of the bigger rocks to make a fire ring. Could you gather firewood? And a few coconuts from the ground, doesn't matter if they're rotten as long as the husk is still attached."

She found a decent amount of dead branches that seemed dry enough, though the walk to the camp from the tree line was farther than she'd care to do on a regular basis. She thought they'd be smarter to make a shelter closer to the trees in the future.

When she got back, there was not only a fire ring, but also a rudimentary spit. It was still too early for dinner, so they decided to walk towards the waterfall together. It was the opposite of the way she'd gone earlier.

Rick pointed out several different plants that he knew by sight.

"That's a Pandanus tree," he said, pointing out a tree with unusual roots that began well above the soil. This particular one was of medium height and was covered with long, narrow leaves.

"Can we eat the fruit?" She could see large, spiky looking globes hanging from the tree.

"Yes, though most people only eat them if they're desperate for food. This tree is useful for the leaves. They can be stripped down and used to weave things and even to make cloth if taken down to the fiber. The wood is useful for building too. The stem is hollow."

Near the water's edge and extending into the shallows were what looked like elephant's ears.

"Those are taro plants. Really important for us. The root is eaten in many different ways. It's what poi is made from in Hawaii."

She hadn't been to Hawaii, but she'd heard of poi. He was already pointing out the next tree.

"That looks like…yes, it is. It's a candleberry tree, see those nuts?"

She nodded. They were pretty small, round, brown or green nuts.

"You can string those together and burn them like a torch. Or press them to extract the oil. Can use the husks to make a dye too."

By now they'd come to the edge of the lake nearest the waterfall, which fell down a steep mountainside. It was relatively narrow, but the fall was thundering loudly enough that the noise precluded talking. It was beautiful, if you forgot you were stranded on a deserted island.

They then turned and wandered back to the camp, finding a few more plants to check out when there was more time. Rick also pointed out the lake was teeming with fish.

Back at camp, Rick used the dry fibers he shucked off the coconut husks as tinder and soon had a good sized fire in the circle of stones he'd created. He spit two of the chicken carcasses they had tried to preserve and they took turns roasting them over the fire. Together with the last of their fruit, it was a delicious meal, the first hot meal they'd had in days.

As Kate ate, her mind replayed the events that had led her here. She was aware she was very lucky to be alive, not to mention to be accompanied by someone as skilled as Rick Rodgers. However, while she was thankful for her fortune, she couldn't help but be concerned and anxious about one very important detail.

"Rick?"

He was tearing into his chicken with gusto and had to chew for a few minutes before answering her.

"Yes?"

"Did you see any other entrances to this island when we were sailing on the lake, or when we were walking around?"

"No, it appears to be a near complete circle with the tallest formations happening to make up the outer walls. It's like we're in a crater of sorts. The only break in it that I saw was that long passage that brought us here."

She was silent for a few minutes, his words sinking in. Finally, he couldn't restrain his curiosity any longer.

"Why?"

She looked up from her plate, where she had appeared to be contemplating a very serious matter as she absently pushed fruit around.

"If we're inside the crater, how will we see a ship that happens by? Or signal that we're here? No one will see us. How will we ever be rescued?"

* * *

**Guess who's got Wi-Fi? For now at least. Leaving for the wild soon, but able to get this chapter up. Thank you so much for all the reviews and love you've all shown this story. Very sorry I've not been able to respond to all the recent reviews; I got some dread virus from a patient before my trip and spent more time in bed than I care to remember.**

**Those of you who guessed the Swiss Family Robinson were spot on. The shipwreck, with them picking through the cargo was the same. They built a raft as well, out of barrells. However, there were a ton of animals on that boat that I thought was a little too good to be true. The hidden interior of the island comes from a Walter Farley story, The Island Stallion. I read every Farley story I could find when I was a kid, and that one never left me.**

**Pics of some of the flora will be on my tumblr. I also have a map of the island, but can't post it while I'm on my trip; that will have to wait. Thanks!**


	16. Chapter 16

**This chapter is dedicated to my two sisters. We've spent a great week together, enjoying our families and the great outdoors. I had an absolutely great time, and look forward to being with them again next year. We live too far apart to see each other regularly, but that makes our time together even more precious.**

* * *

December, 1999

They'd not come to a decision on how to signal for help; Rick felt they needed to wait until the island was fully explored before they gave up hope that they were cut off—or embarked on something foolhardy. With the raft now unloaded, it would ride very high in the water. It was so ungainly, he was fearful that an attempt to return to the narrow beaches they'd seen outside of the buttressing cliffs that now harbored them would be suicidal.

Kate couldn't argue with that logic, but the need to pursue rescue burned in her. A signal they were _here, _that they were _alive_. Otherwise, any passing ship would simply see the forbidding lump of rock that they'd initially seen and pass on by without any knowledge that _they were here_. When Rick started delineating everything that they needed to do—or at least everything that _he_ felt they needed to do prior to a desperate attempt to return to the ocean outside—she wanted to scream.

"We _have_ to plant the saplings before they die. It would be foolhardy to ignore their value, especially if we're going to be her for some time," he explained, trying to be patient with her.

Ah, but there was the crux of their problem. Or at least one of them. He was planning for the long term. She couldn't think, couldn't imagine, couldn't _fathom_, that they would be here long enough for some saplings to bear fruit. _Surely_ there would be ships passing. They just needed to _see _them, _signal_ them, and all would be well.

Rick kept talking, figuring she would understand his reasoning if he spelt it all out for her. "It would be smart to plant crops too, get things growing as soon as possible. Explore the island in order to discover what resources we have available. We need a chicken coop; otherwise we'll never find their eggs."

His points were all sensible, and she found that while she still wanted to argue against them, there was no valid point of contention that she could raise.

"How long will that all take?" Perhaps it wouldn't take them long; then they could pursue the jobs that would help get them _off_ the island, versus ones that would help them survive _on_ it.

"Depending on how extensively we explore, no more than a week or so. But there are other tasks we need to consider besides those. For example, we need to build a permanent shelter. It should probably be elevated, since we don't know about flooding yet. Thank God one of the tools is a post-hole digger; burying the stilts would be nearly impossible otherwise. We might need to build a way of storing water in case of drought, depending on how far from the lake we build. We need to build a toilet facility and a better kitchen. And I'm sure there are a million other things I'm forgetting. Ooh, and a calendar to keep track of how long we're here."

"None of those things sound like they have to be done immediately," Kate objected. His lack of desire to see her point about rescue was grating.

"They're still important to our survival, Kate. It's the rainy season. We're going to be stuck under these leaky tarps if we don't do something. And I can't imagine you're all that comfortable walking into the jungle every day to use the bathroom."

Ok, he had a point there. While Kate certainly did not share his enthusiasm for being stranded, she appreciated his ability to plan for the future.

"You sound like we're the Swiss Family Robinson or Robinson Crusoe," she offered when he finally shut up for a few seconds.

"There are some similarities. I suppose you could be my girl Friday."

'_Ugh, I walked into that one_,' she thought. The sun had sunk below the surrounding cliffs of the island; it would be dark soon. Though night was minutes away, it was still quite warm out.

"What if we don't find any way to watch for ships or send up signals? How are we ever going to get off this rock? We wouldn't need to build anything if we were rescued." She couldn't imagine what their life would be like. No hope of rescue? It was inconceivable.

"I don't know yet, Kate. I don't have any more answers than you have. I will say that the two beaches we saw near the cleft might offer a way for us to leave a message. We probably can't access them without a better raft or maybe a canoe, but it's something that we can explore if there's nothing obvious within this crater."

"I just can't imagine being stuck here without any hope of rescue."

"I'm sure you have a great life to get back to, and I'm sorry this happened to you. But we have to make sure that we do survive, so that when we are found there is something to rescue."

She was quiet; she didn't have a great life to get back to. It was the opposite in fact. But it was a life. She couldn't really explain her desperation to get off the island. All she knew was that she felt stuck here, almost claustrophobic. Her life in New York had been a nightmare for the last year, but at least it was something real. As opposed to being isolated on a desert island, which felt like living in a permanent holding pattern.

It was now full on black night, save for the light of the moon and the dying fire. The cacophony of the birds from the day time had given way to the music of the night insects.

"We should get some sleep. There is a lot of work to be done and we'll need our rest. Good night Kate."

He moved his dirty plate and utensils to the top of a barrel. Cleaning would come tomorrow when they could see what they were doing. They'd brought a full set of plates, bowls, glasses and silverware from the _Iriata_. It was a small comfort, eating off a real plate with real utensils. And it just served to remind her how ridiculous their circumstances were.

Kate stood and placed her dishes with his then moved to her tent. She slipped under the walls of the tarp and suddenly discovered why Rick had taken the time to build both the front and back of his tent with high walls.

Her tent had sat in the sun once she finished it. With the back sloping to the ground, it had acted as a heat trap. It was completely stifling inside, and with the back enclosed there was no way to attract a breeze. Now that the inky night encompassed the island, there was no possibility of going out and finding a way to fix the situation, at least tonight.

"Kate?" His voice carried easily over the ten feet that separated them.

"What?" she snapped. She hated that he'd been right in building his tent the way he had. Her experience was from camping with her father in upstate New York. A different climate, obviously.

"There's plenty of room in here if you want to join me. I can only imagine how hot your tent is right now."

She thought about refusing. However, there was no way she was going to sleep the way it was, and she felt too exposed to try and sleep with the tarp off the pole she'd set up as the vertical support.

"I'm not sharing your mattress, if that's what you're asking Rick."

"I'd be happy to share, though I'll help you carry yours over here if you insist," he said.

"Fine, get over here and help me then."

Thus, she found herself sleeping next to him once again. Though, she had to admit his tent was much more comfortable. When a rain storm swept in later that night she didn't even notice. While she didn't realize it at the time, this would be the last night she'd try to sleep under a different roof than him for many years. Over ten years, to be exact.

* * *

They both woke shortly after the sun had risen high enough to penetrate into the crater that protected them. The sun started heating the tarps covering them, and the temperature rose accordingly.

Everything was wet, evidence of the rainstorm they'd slept through. The chickens were especially unhappy, as their open cages offered no real shelter. Many of them had found their way into Kate's abandoned tent.

After a quick meal of cold chicken and the last of the fruit from the ship, Rick outlined the list of priorities as he saw them.

"The most important things for survival are water, shelter, fire and food. We have shelter, at least temporarily. Fire as well, though our matches will run out eventually. I'll need to make a fire bow system, but that can come later. We have food, though we do need to start gathering more. Finally water. We have access to the lake; it's not completely freshwater since the ocean does intrude through the channel, but it's drinkable. And the water from the falls would be freshwater."

"Ok, sounds like we have the basics covered. What else?"

"We've got to build a shelter for the chickens; we don't want them in the tent with us. But before we do that, we need to figure out where the best place will be to build our place. So, we're back to exploring. We could take the raft since it's still intact and explore the lake shore the whole way round. We'll need to be near the water anyway."

"Can we manage it without the ballast? It's more top heavy now since the cargo was unloaded."

"True, but there aren't big waves on the lake. I wouldn't risk it on the ocean, but I think if we're careful it will be doable."

"Alright, but let's go gather firewood to have ready for tonight, and I'd like to get some coconuts to take with us and the rest of the chicken from last night." Kate wasn't about to spend dusk wandering around looking for firewood.

Most of the wood was wet from the rainstorm, but they found some from a fallen tree not too far away, that was relatively dry. Rick knew he'd be splitting wood soon unless they could think of something else. Luckily there were a couple different sized axes and wedges in the tools they'd been able to rescue.

Finding fresh coconuts was quite simple. The tall coconut palms were everywhere, and loaded with fruit. It seemed like every few minutes they'd hear one crashing down onto the floor, waiting for them to find it.

Once the campsite was cleaned and ready for their return, they set out. Rick made sure they were both back in the lifejackets, just in case. They launched the raft without too much difficulty, and by mutual agreement headed towards the waterfall first. This was the way they had walked the night before, so they knew there were several useful plants and trees this way.

Approaching the waterfall was tricky on the fickle raft. Kate was certain they would have capsized several times, but Rick was able to keep them upright and safe. The tree line was much closer as they neared the waterfall, where the steep slope of the mountain that generated the waterfall met the edge of the lake. Kate couldn't see anything behind the waterfall, though it was possible that some cavern lurked behind the veil of water.

They bobbed past the waterfall and picked up the shoreline on the other side. The tree line here was almost to the shore. Rick excitedly pointed out several more plants he recognized.

"That's ulu, or breadfruit. Oh my god, that is a huge find. We're definitely never going to starve here." His excited declaration made Kate smile. She'd heard of breadfruit, though hadn't tried any.

"Ipu, the gourd tree. We can use the gourds for lots of different things. That's a useful find," Rick mused, already planning on drying some of the gourds for containers of various sizes.

"Wow, there's even some awapuhi. It's used for shampoo," he said as he pointed out the leafy plant on the ground.

"Hibiscus plants are quite common too," he said as he pointed out the flowering shrub to her. "We can use their shoots, and that of the breadfruit tree, to make tapa, which is the traditional way to make clothing. Though hopefully our own clothes will last as long as we need them too. Hina used Hibiscus tea for a diuretic."

She thought he was going to fall off the raft when he saw the sweet potato vine. He waxed on and on about how lucky they'd been so far. It was a pleasant discovery that the island, so forbidding from the outside, was so accommodating to them.

As they slowly made their way around the far shore of the lake, it was apparent that while the island offered them a large bounty of useful plants, there was no place on this side that was suitable for their permanent habitation. The ground sloped up steeply from the shore, and there were no areas open and flat for planting what they had brought with them.

They had reached the channel that had carried them in from the ocean when they decided to land the raft and eat some lunch. After discussing it, they landed on the side of the shore housing their campsite. It seemed marginally flatter and they wanted to see how far up they could climb. If they could see the ocean, this might be a good place for a signal of some sort.

Initially, the climb was fairly easy. However, a few hundred yards into it and it became much more challenging. They resorted to using trees and shrubs for handholds, until they were confronted with a sheer wall that climbed a further twenty yards above them. Kate cursed, disappointed.

Rick carefully edged to the side as far as he felt safe.

"I can only see the channel. Looks like about where it made that first turn." He then picked his way back to her.

"Sorry Kate. Maybe it's better on the other side."

She was disappointed, but was beginning to accept that they were going to have to make a life here for the time being. The island had saved their lives, but it was like they had been swallowed into the maw of its depths, disappearing from the sight of the rest of the world permanently.

Once back to the shore, they shoved off again. No more than a few minutes later Rick nearly jumped off the boat in raptures.

"Bamboo, Kate. Look at it all."

He was right; there was a huge stand of bamboo that stretched from near the shore up the hill as far as she could see. Some of it was quite tall and thick.

"With the Pandanus tree and bamboo, we should be able to build something quite sturdy. This is going to be really useful."

The remainder of the trip was routine, with no new discoveries in terms of plants. However, Rick knew there were likely yet undiscovered plants further up the slopes. Not all plants wanted to be on the water.

Once back at their original camp, they sat down for a minute to discuss what they'd found.

"So, did you see anyplace that was particularly appealing, in terms of a permanent camp?" he asked her.

"Well, I think we will have to live closer to the tree line. It's too far to walk from here for wood, and being in the trees will moderate the temperature a bit better. It's sweltering here in the full sun."

"Okay, that's a fair point. But we don't want to live in the forest; it would take too much effort to clear an area, and we want to be relatively near water."

"True. But the areas at the edge of this plain are closer to the line of trees, so I think moving one way or the other would be smart."

He nodded, thinking. "But which way? Closer to the waterfall? That would be closer to that group of taro plants and it would be a shorter crossing to the other side where we saw all those breadfruit trees."

"Or we choose the opposite direction," she mused. "It would be closer to the bamboo grove and to the channel to the ocean. Once we have a kayak or canoe to use, that might be important in terms of rescue."

"Well, those are both compelling arguments. How about we walk both sides, look at both interiors and see if there is an advantage to either site?"

They set out to look at the site nearest the waterfall first. There was nothing in particular alluring about it except for its proximity to the taros.

"Rick, taros need a lot of water, right?" she asked.

"Yes, they need to be in water. Why?"

"Well, I'm just wondering if we are near them, wouldn't it make the mosquitos really bad?"

"You know, that's a really good point. Let's go look at the other side."

It was obviously a better site when they got there. There were multitudes of Pandanus trees and their interesting prop roots, as well as a variety of other trees. One area set back about fifty yards from the lake shore looked especially attractive. There were several large candlenut trees spaced apart, with a clearing just past them that seemed ready made for their purposes. Roughly oval in shape, it was about twenty yards in diameter at the smallest point. There were no large trees in the clearing, just some bushes and grass.

"This is perfect Kate. We can use the bamboo to build a real shelter. It's not far from the water, and we can easily access the area where we're going to plant the fruit trees."

Kate thought it looked like a likely place as well. Being just within the trees would be a bit cooler. She gave him a grin, probably the first she'd had since they'd arrived here.

"It looks great. Should we move our stuff over here? We can start doing all the little jobs we need to do before we start on a permanent house," she added. They could string some rope up between the candlenut trees and make a much better temporary shelter.

"Yeah, that's a really good idea. It will take some work to drag the heavy stuff here, but it'll be worth it to keep everything together."

"Let's get busy then."

They walked back to their camp and reloaded the heavy items onto the raft, including most of the rocks they'd gathered for the fire ring. Dismantling everything took about two hours. Rick then rowed the raft the couple hundred yards down the shore to their chosen spot, while Kate walked back carrying two of the chickens. The rest slowly trailed behind her. Their cages had been loaded on the raft.

Once back to the site, their first task was to set up their tent. With the candlenut trees located in a rough triangle, he ran ropes between them, then tied their tarps over the rope, creating a ceiling over an area much larger than they'd been able to make with simple support poles. He incorporated other tarps to hang down as side walls, as well as staking one on the ground for a floor. While he worked on their tent, Kate set up the chicken crates about halfway between their clearing and the shore. She placed them near the trees, covering them with more of the tarp so they'd have some shelter.

Kate then helped Rick carry the mattresses up to their new tent. He had arranged the tarps such that they could use four as walls, but left all but one rolled up onto the roof until they were ready to go to bed. Kate piled all the extra sheets, blankets, towels and clothes against this back wall, trying to keep them as dry as possible in the wet, humid climate.

Leaving the other three walls open made the tent more spacious and airy. Rick planned to take the raft apart the next morning. He would use the pallets to elevate the mattresses off the ground, and would use a few of the barrels to store water in. The other barrels would be put to use curing the leaves he was going to show Kate how to gather. They would need the cured leaves for a variety of things, especially to make more rope. He needed a better raft anyway, for hauling fruit and bamboo or wood; the current one was too unstable for one person to use without extreme caution.

They were exhausted after their long day of labor, so didn't bother lighting a fire. Neither even spoke much; Kate felt like she was going to collapse on her feet. After a cold dinner of coconut, they went to bed still a bit hungry. However, they knew they'd made some good decisions, and now all they lacked was time and effort before they would be much more comfortable.

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**The plants on the island are the types found on islands where Polynesians had lived at some point; they often brought useful plants with them and seeded islands to provide for them. **

**We'll now resume our regular updating schedule. Hope you guys are still with me!**


	17. Chapter 17

**This chapter is dedicated to sKyoKun. A native of France, she has agreed to the title of "Official French expert" for this fic. Which I needed badly, as all my expertise came from Google Translate, then on to Garrae, who speaks some French. However, there is nothing quite as reassuring as a native speaker in your corner. Thanks for all the love you've shown this story. One of the greatest things about writing fanfic is "meeting" people from all over the world. I'm very glad you found this story, and by extension, me. I look forward to continuing our conversations!**

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**Huge props and laughs to CharacterDriven, who has officially published the first spin off fic from Surviving Paradise. It's set from the viewpoint of the chickens, and is quite hilarious. Go check it out! www dot fanfiction dot net/s/10480367/1/Chickens-in-Paradise-A-Tribute-to-Surviving-Paradise-by-dredit92  
**

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December, 1999

Rick was having a very pleasant dream. He knew it was a dream because he was back on the _Iriata_. They were sailing on a calm sea with a beautiful blue sky above them. He wasn't alone; he could feel the warmth of soft, female flesh resting on his chest and pushing up against his hips. He smiled and leaned down and kissed the head of his companion. She smelled delectable, somewhat like coconut. He couldn't remember feeling happier, as he lay in what appeared to be the bow of his ship with his lover.

He tightened his arms around her as she stirred; his embrace comforted her and she relaxed back into his arms. He had just started to kiss her again when the ship suddenly bucked and he was being flung into the sea. He sat up screaming just before he hit the water.

"What the hell, Rick?"

Kate was half on his mattress, half on hers. She'd been his lover in the dream. Now he was sitting up, sweating and heart racing.

"Bad dream," he gasped.

"Were you kissing me?"

"Nooo." Not on purpose anyway.

"Why is my neck wet?"

"What are you doing on my mattress?" He decided to go on the offensive. It worked, as she blushed and stood up.

"You probably pulled me over there."

"Did not."

"Great, I'm living with an eight year old," she muttered.

"We're coexisting, not living together. Though I'm more than happy to change the conditions," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows at her.

"Uff, he's also a sixteen year old. Just wonderful," she huffed, stalking out of the tent.

He sat there a few minutes more, heart still pounding from the pleasant dream turned nightmare. He'd been so busy working to keep them alive since the shipwreck that he hadn't dreamt of it; at least until now.

It was just before dawn and once again it appeared there had been a rainstorm the night before. The tarps had done a relatively good job keeping the rain out, but it was clear they needed something better soon.

Rick walked into the trees to relieve himself, then went down to the shore to wash up a bit before rejoining Kate. The birds were quite loud as the light started to build in the sky; even the chickens and two roosters were busy adding to the din. There were definitely some drawbacks to living as one with nature.

"I'm sorry about this morning. I was dreaming, had no idea you were there," he apologized.

She was busy chopping at one of the coconuts, a bit harder than was necessary. She remained silent, so he decided either he was forgiven or she was upset that she'd woken up partially on his mattress. Or a combination of the two.

"My plans today are to first dismantle the raft. We'll use the pallets to elevate the mattresses and get off the damp tarps. Then I'm going to start cutting bamboo."

She stopped chopping and finally looked up. "What do you want me to do?"

"We need more rocks for the fire pit, and if you can find any relatively long flat stones we could use it as a type of counter for prepping stuff. Also, do you remember the breadfruit trees?"

She nodded. Rick had been very excited about them.

"See if you can find any over on this side. Gather what you can, whether its coconuts or breadfruit. We need more food for today, as well as starting to make a stockpile of things."

"What about the saplings?"

"I thought we'd address them this afternoon. I think that'll be quite a bit of work for today."

With nothing but some coconut meat to serve as breakfast, Kate was quite eager to go foraging. She took a sheet with her, to act as a sack. She decided to walk along the far side of the clearing, near the tree line. They'd never fully explored it, just the edges nearest the shore.

To her surprise and delight, there were quite a few more coconut palms as well as several trees she couldn't identify. She also found some breadfruit trees and gathered some of the more likely looking specimens. One large patch of sweet potato vine made her squeal out loud and she dug up four large potatoes. Her most exciting find was several banana plants, all with ripening fruit.

With her sack essentially full, she returned to their camp site and deposited her findings on the ground next to the fire pit. Rick was still at the shore taking the raft apart. When he saw her he shouted from some help and she helped him carry the pallets up to the tent. Once they had them situated, it looked more like a house. The pallets elevated the mattresses enough that they almost resembled furniture. Kate made sure the new beds were separated enough that there wouldn't be a repeat of the morning's events.

Rick then left for the bamboo grove with several of the hatchets and two of their hand saws. Kate decided to walk towards the waterfall; she'd seen some broken rock face crumbling from the mountainside there, and hoped to find enough stones for their purposes.

They regrouped at noon. Rick had harvested close to fifty bamboo of varying sizes. He'd dragged them to the lakeshore, which was very near the grove, lashed them together, and floated them along the shoreline of the lake until he was back at the campsite.

He found Kate already there. She'd clearly been busy. There were a variety of breadfruit and coconuts, and she'd brought back some stones for the fire pit. She'd already smashed up two of the coconuts and had sliced up a few of the bananas. Since they hadn't relit the fire, there was no way to cook more chicken or prepare the breadfruit. Rick was glad he'd been eating a diet high in fruit for a while now; it had been a common option on the _Iriata_. Otherwise he had no doubt the current all fruit fare would have led to some embarrassing gastrointestinal situations.

"I found some flat rocks by the waterfall," Kate mentioned as they ate their lunch. It was hot under the tropical sun, and Rick was thinking how he needed to build some sort of shelter for meals. Most Polynesians traditionally built and used multiple dwellings. Cooking was always done in a separate structure from the one used for sleeping. The dining area need not be completely covered however. He was thinking a pergola would be easy to erect, but would provide some shade. They could train some vines to grow up the poles, for beauty and more shade. Just one more thing to add to the long list.

"Are they too big to carry back?" he asked, once his thoughts drifted away from the never-ending to-do list.

"Yes, I think so. But they look perfect for what you were talking about. They're pretty flat on one side. And I thought a larger size would be more useful than small."

"Ok, we'll go check it out after lunch. I'll make a temporary raft out of some of the bamboo."

"I was thinking about making a stew with some of the chicken and the breadfruit."

"That will probably be good. Breadfruit can be cooked in a variety of ways. But a stew takes hours and we're going to get the rocks. Maybe tomorrow?" He was glad she was trying to incorporate new things for their diet, but the problem right now was time. Specifically, their lack of it.

* * *

The rocks were perfect, and entirely too big for the two of them to carry far. He used some of the bigger bamboo lashed together to form a crude raft; they were able to bring four flat stones back in this fashion. They carried them up to the campsite to install later, then turned to the issue of the saplings.

While not a lot of variety, there were quite a few. Mostly papaya, but also some mango and lime. The decided to plant them in the higher meadow. Kate cut down the taller grass with a scythe and then gathered the grass to dry. They were going to use it to line the chicken cages for nesting material.

After she'd cleared an area, Rick would dig a hole and plant the tree. They had one five gallon bucket, which they took turns filling and watering the newly planted trees. Rick was hoping the nightly rains would continue and they wouldn't have to water them again. This got him to contemplating the benefits of a bamboo irrigation system and he was lost in thought when he realized Kate had been talking to him.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. What did you say?"

She gave him a little glare. "It's pretty obvious you weren't paying attention. Dreaming of your girlfriend?"

He looked at her with a bit of heat. Her hair had been sloppily pulled back into a makeshift bun that had long ago relinquished control of many strands of her unruly hair. She was dirty and sweaty. Some of the water she'd been carrying back from the lake had slopped out on her at some point, so she was wet…in some very interesting places. She looked delicious and it took an effort to control himself. He wasn't interested in her in that way. Was he?

"Women are nothing but trouble. So, no, I was definitely not dreaming about an imaginary girlfriend. If you really want to know, I was thinking about how to use bamboo pipes for an irrigation system. Just one more job on an infinitely long list."

Kate was taken aback by the bitterness in his voice. After waking up half on his mattress this morning she'd been certain he was planning on trying to escalate their relationship. They were the only two on the island after all. She'd spent part of the morning thinking about how to keep him at arm's length without making him mad or hurting him. She owed him a lot, but she wasn't going to just give him her body as a form of payment.

However, it seemed she'd yet again assumed she knew what he was thinking only to discover she was off by miles. He continually surprised her, that was certain.

"Sorry, didn't mean to insult you," she said. His face was still tense, but he didn't snap back at her. She plowed ahead, knowing she had been unfair to him and regretting it.

"I was saying that we should have a name for the island and our campsite. It seems silly to keep calling it 'campsite'."

He brightened a little bit. Thinking of a name was energizing to him. He could think of dozens of ways to combine their names in interesting ways. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Well, I was thinking it should be Tahitian. It would be silly to name a Polynesian island something in English. Aren't islands in Tahitian called 'motus'?"

"Some are. 'Motu' means a low island, like the coral atolls of the Tuamotu chain. This island is certainly no low land. The word you're looking for is 'fenua,' which means 'high land'."

"Ok, so would we just name it Fenua? Or should it have more to it than just a single word?" she asked.

She'd wiped a hand, still wet from watering a sapling, across her dusty face, creating a trail of mud a finger width across her face. He thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen, until he remembered he didn't think about her in any way other than a friend. Mentally shaking himself, he set out to answer her question as best he could.

"Well, Fenua is pretty generic. We could call it Fenua Pari, which would mean the island of the high cliffs."

"That would be appropriate. Fenua Pari," she said, rolling it around on her tongue. "I like it. I think we have a name for our island."

"It does seem appropriate."

"What about for the campsite?" she wondered

"I think we could be creative. It was founded for and by the two of us, so we could name it after both of us. Riate? Kack? Katchard?"

Kate's face was hilarious; he had to laugh at her expression of disgust that got stronger the more ridiculous he got.

"Wait, those are just our first names. Don't judge until you hear our last names too," he begged. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face for some of these.

"Ok, genius. I'm waiting."

"Without judgment. That's important," he cautioned.

"Fine, but this is ridiculous," she snapped, irritated that he was getting under her skin.

"Ah, Kate, that sounds judgy."

"Judgy? Is that even a word?"

"I'm allowed to make up words."

"Says who?"

"Says all the people who buy…" he trailed off suddenly, looking furtively around.

"What people are you talking about? It's just you and me here on this island, if you haven't noticed."

"I've noticed, alright," he mumbled. He was noticing far too much of her these days.

"Can we just get on with this farce? Give me your names and let me veto all of them, then we can talk about a real name."

"Why, Kate Beckett. Such hostility! Fine, but you'll like one of these. How about Rockett?" His hopeful look was met with stony silence.

"It's perfect! Who wouldn't want a space themed home base? Get it?"

She clearly didn't get it. "I can't believe I'm living with such a non-nerd," he muttered under his breath. Or at least he thought it was under his breath. Turns out, he was wrong.

"First of all, we are NOT '_living together_'," she said, using air quotes to drive home the point that he wasn't as quiet as he thought he was. "We've been _forced_ into this. And I love space and science as much as anyone, but it's a _dumb_ name. Now, hurry up or I'll pick the name without you."

"Ok, ok. We could live at Beckers? Rodgetts? Caskett?"

Her expression became grimmer with each name until the last one.

"Caskett? Where'd you even come up with that one? It's nothing to do with your name. You're losing it."

Rick was horrified with his slip, though he tried to cover it by acting hurt.

"I guess you don't like my suggestions."

"Those are horrible. Beckers? Really? What is the word for shelter in Tahitian?"

"Um," he had to think for a bit. "I think pereora would work. It means a place of refuge."

"Pereora? I think that sounds much better than Kack. Or Beckers. And it's way more meaningful than just jamming our names together. Pereora, on Fenua Pari. I like how they sound. What do you think?"

"Well, I think you're missing out on a golden opportunity to have something named after you."

"If those are the names, then I'll gladly pass. Seriously, do you think Pereora is a good choice, or not?"

"Yes, yes. It's a solid choice, though I still think you didn't give Rockett enough consideration. Alright, let's get the last of these trees planted then head back to Pereora. I'm hungry and dirty."

They finished an hour later. Both were tired and sore from their exertions, but with a proud feeling of accomplishment as they surveyed their eventual orchard.

They made their way back to the lake shore. Rick plucked his shirt and shorts off and plunged into the refreshing water clad only in his boxers. He loved the invigorating feeling of the cool water on his overheated body. As he lazed around in water just up to his shoulders, he turned back to shore and saw Kate standing uncertainly. She hadn't shed any clothes, and while she looked like she wanted to join him in frolicking in the shallows of the lake, she was making no moves to _actually_ join him.

"The water feels great Kate," he encouraged. "You do know how to swim, right?"

"Yes, I know how to swim," she snapped.

"Then get out here. It's a perfect way to relax after all the hard work we put in today."

She didn't change her position, so he swam slightly closer.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't have a suit."

"I don't either; didn't stop me."

"No, it didn't," she mumbled. He didn't hear her. "Yes, but I'm not an exhibitionist, like you."

"Oh, come on. We're the only two here. I'm the only possible person who will see you, and believe me I've no interest in whatever might be laying beneath your clothes. I've seen it all before." He knew as he said it that it was a bald faced lie, but it seemed to galvanize her into action.

His words were reassuring on the surface; she took no time to examine why she felt hurt on a deeper level. He had no stated interest in her. Besides, a bra and panties were just as covering as a bikini, which she wouldn't hesitate to wear to a crowded beach. Why would this be any different?

Peeling off her shirt and shorts, she waded into the lake as well. She didn't notice Rick's gulp of surprise when he saw her nearly naked, and she never realized his subsequent long swim away from her was to hide his reaction to her body.

He thought she looked like a goddess, descending upon the sea from an earthly paradise. The riot of colors from the varied fauna of the island framed her lithe body as she descended into the azure waters. A goddess that held a power over his imagination that had never been duplicated.

He had no idea how he was going to continue to treat her as a mere platonic companion, now that he had a much better idea of what lay beneath her clothes. Yet he knew that he must somehow rein in his lust. She'd shown no interest in him and they had to work together if they were going to survive on this island. He just wasn't sure anymore that he _wanted_ to survive if he couldn't have a deeper relationship with her.

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**Ok, you may have noticed that I changed the pic; this is a cover art version I made with them superimposed on what the island might look like from the air. I've been very remiss in updating Tumblr; it should now be updated for you. I was distracted by a tragedy that befell me during vacation: my cell phone went for a swim and drowned. I was completely cut off from all communication for 5 long days. Really hard to realize how dependent I am on the darn thing, but there it is. Anyway, we plow on with the story, and on with the pics. Enjoy!**


	18. Chapter 18

**This chapter is dedicated to erinn80. A vocal supporter of mine on twitter, she always has nice things to say about each update. I look forward to seeing what she thinks, and really appreciate the efforts she takes to support this fic on social media. Thanks for everything!**

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December, 1999

Kate Beckett was swimming in a giant pool of the clearest water she had ever seen. There were colorful fish accompanying her, each stroke of her long arms introducing a riot of bubbles into the water surrounding her. Suddenly she sensed a presence behind her. Unsure if it was dangerous, she whipped her body around only to have her arms pinioned to her sides by a large, immovable force.

Gasping, she looked up to see eyes matching the color of the water staring intently at her beneath a mop of dark, wet hair. A neat beard covered his face; there was no denying exactly who this man was and what he wanted from her. And there was no mistaking her wishes either as she leaned in to kiss him on his lips, intending to discover if they are as soft as they appeared to be.

As their heads slanted naturally toward the other the tension of the moment built, anticipation of the kiss careening out of control. Just as mere millimeters separated them he suddenly let loose at full volume, crowing his joy of the dawning day.

"Cock-a-doodle-dooo."

Shaking her head back and forth, she tried to sink back into the moment, but each time she thought she'd done so he opened his mouth again and crowed. Loudly. She suddenly noticed he now had a beak instead of the satiny lips she'd been longing to taste. His beady eyes peering at her, he jerked his head toward her as if he was going to peck her lips with his beak in a bizarre imitation of their near kiss.

That's the moment she startled awake, heart pounding at the strange events of the dream. As she sat up, she jumped about a foot in the air when she found one of the roosters strutting past her bed.

"Good lord, it's no wonder I have the most bizarre dreams here," she muttered darkly as she got up and prepared to get started on her day.

It had been a week since they'd landed on the island. A very busy week. She'd never worked so hard in her life, and while they had accomplished a lot, there were still many more items that were vital to their long term survival.

Every morning they were roused by the dawn chorus of the island's resident birds and the roosters they'd rescued. Rick normally rose first, though Kate was never far behind him. They had fallen into a routine after a few days. Get up, get ready for the day, eat breakfast, work, eat lunch, work, swim if time before dinner, eat dinner and go to bed as night fell. Without true candles or torches yet, it was impossible to do much once the black night enveloped them. Many nights they didn't bother lighting a fire, opting for a light meal.

Rick had cut a long piece of bamboo with even septations and driven it into the ground near the fire ring. Every day he used a knife to mark another twenty four hours spent on the island. They'd been able to figure out how long they'd been gone. The journey from Papeete had started on November 24th. It was now December. Kate had grown to both love and hate the crude calendar. It allowed her to count the days until the anniversary of her mother's death. Love for the fact that she'd know the exact day. Hate for the fact that she'd know the exact day.

She slowly grew more withdrawn as the days marked on the calendar showed the approaching milestone. She knew Rick thought she was simply withdrawn due to the lack of a rescue effort. It was so much more, but she couldn't tell him. She knew it would be very difficult to hide from him when the day came. She wasn't sure anymore that she wanted to hide the whole thing from him, but she couldn't figure out how to address it, either.

Nearly every night they had also awakened to water dripping on them from a rainstorm. They were in the rainy season, the reality of which ensured plenty of freshwater, but also damp quarters. Rick had yet to start in on building a more permanent shelter for them as their priorities were taken up with other projects.

They were so busy working there was rarely time for talking about anything other than their immediate needs. Kate welcomed the mindless labor. Most of them were jobs she'd never done before, so her entire focus was on the work. It left no time for her to dwell on the loss of her parents or to imagine when or even _whether _they'd ever be rescued.

Rick was quiet most of the time as well. She wasn't sure if the enormity of the challenge daunted him, or if he was simply an introvert like her. Since he was doing most of the construction, they didn't spend a lot of time during the day in each other's company. It was hard not to notice that he seemed to avoid her during the afternoon swim. Not that this bothered her. The less personal it was between them, the more unlikely she'd have to share anything about her life before Tahiti. She wasn't sure how she would handle the one year anniversary of her mother's murder. Life was such a surreal experience right now; she didn't know if that would make it harder or easier to deal with.

After they had finished planting their saplings, they had next turned their attention to expanding the number of taro plants in the shallows near the waterfall. Rick had shown her how to divide them and soon they had tripled the number of plants. They had harvested some of the corms as well and she'd learned a few of the ways to prepare them.

Rick had continued to harvest more bamboo for various projects. The first was a proper chicken coop for their flock. They had incorporated the cages as part of the structure. The coop was built halfway to the lake and most of the chickens had settled into it without further issue. She'd lined the crates with dried grasses harvested when they'd planted the saplings. The fowl had established it as a home immediately, and a couple eggs had appeared yesterday. They were a welcome addition to their diet, as they had yet to find time to fish and their protein supply had dwindled rapidly after consuming the remainder of the chicken carcasses she'd preserved.

They'd not bothered to include a gate or door for the coop since there weren't any predators on the island. However, Kate was thinking of remedying this as several mornings she'd awoken to a rooster far too near her ears for her taste. Or worse, actually in the tent with her, as had happened this morning. Rick had included a roof for the coop, showing her how thatching worked with palm and Pandanus leaves. The chickens were far more comfortable than they were, so why they insisted on leaving their shelter and bothering her was a mystery.

Rick had then turned his attention to the next project on their list: the outhouse. He'd started by digging out a hole in a tiny clearing they found about twenty feet from the site they planned to build the shelter. It was in the direction opposite from the lake; Rick wanted no chance they'd contaminate the waters there.

They'd taken turns digging, though Rick did the majority of it, until they had a hole over five feet deep and about three and a half to four feet deep. It had been backbreaking work once past the initial three feet, but the deeper they made it the more time they'd have before being forced to abandon it for another site.

Rick had then begun erecting a framework for the outhouse while Kate started gathering and preparing Pandanus leaves for weaving. Rick had shown her the basics and she'd caught on quickly. Curing the leaves and breaking them down to the needed fibers would take a few weeks, so she gathered leaves for days to cure in the sun.

First, she collected the leaves, careful of the sharp thorns that lined the outer edge of each leaf. Since many grew near the ground, she was able to harvest a large amount within a few days.

Next, she cut away the hard thorns and boiled the leaves over the fire ring that she and Rick had reconstructed in the open area in front of their clearing, just beyond the tree line. They referred to it as their kitchen. Next to the fire ring, Rick had placed the flat stones she'd found by the waterfall. He elevated them using a framework of Pandanus trunks. It was quite sturdy, and they now had a working surface for food preparation that allowed them to stand and work comfortably.

After the leaves were boiled, she used a shell to scrape them, removing the pulpy flesh and leaving just the fiber behind. They were then dried in the sun and rolled up for a couple days, then placed back in the sun to cure. She had also gathered some young coconut palm leaves and treated them the same way. They had a lot of projects they could use the leaves on. Since it took some time for the leaves to cure, Rick had wanted to start the process as soon as possible.

She didn't spend all her time gathering and preparing leaves though. She'd volunteered for laundry duty, which was accomplished at the lake. A washer board, of sorts, had been bound together with twine by Rick. He showed her how to use a particular flowering shrub as a very primitive soap; they didn't have any other, and real soap making required lye. Lye was one compound they'd likely never have: no animal fat available, to speak of, or the appropriate hardwood trees for the ash. The plant method worked, to a degree. She followed washing by hanging their clothes to dry on a rope strung between a couple of bamboo poles in the sun in near their fire pit.

Yet another task for her, while Rick was building the frame of the outhouse, was to gather ripe coconuts. She cut the husk into several long sections using the machete. The fruit they used for meals; she was careful to save the milk as well for cooking and drinking. Some of the empty water bottles served as containers.

The husks were then placed in one of the large barrels that had served as part of the raft. They were kept at the shoreline and she had filled several of them with lake water, using their one bucket. The husks would soak in the water for several weeks; each week she planned to start a new barrel so she would know which one was which. She was going to use four barrels like this for now; eventually they would use some other method as the barrels would serve other purposes, but for now this was an important project.

Rick had explained that once the husks had soaked for several weeks, they would pound the husks with a mallet on one of the flat kitchen rocks and gather the long, stringy fibers that separated from the pulp. The fibers would then be dried in the sun and she and Rick would start twisting them together when they had spare time. This would lead to sennit, which in turn would be braided into a rope. In pre-European days, nearly all time in the South Pacific not spent on other jobs was used to make sennit. It was one of the most important items the Polynesians crafted.

She and Rick needed a large sum of rope in order to build their permanent house. They had some nylon rope from the ship, but it was of limited quantity and they were both hesitant to cut it to use on a house when it might be needed whole for something later.

Her remaining time was spent gathering food. They'd discovered the trees surrounding the plain where they'd set up their base were full of a variety of the trees they'd already discovered elsewhere. She didn't have to go far to harvest coconuts, breadfruit, bananas or even sweet potatoes. She'd confiscated the bucket they'd used to haul water to the fruit trees to serve as a basket for carrying what they needed. With the hot climate and lack of refrigeration, there was no sense in gathering more than they could eat before it spoiled.

She'd stopped mentioning her wish that Rick start building some sort of canoe or kayak. He always seemed to have a pinched look on his face when she mentioned it, and would be very curt with her. It was hard to fathom his response, since the time people would be looking for them would surely be in the next few weeks, assuming the survivors in the life boat had been rescued. If they did nothing to indicate their presence, they would probably be declared dead. If she could have built a boat alone, she would have done it. Yet Rick dragged his feet. She didn't understand him or his reluctance on the matter, and so was glad their time was consumed with work that kept them mostly apart.

* * *

Rick paused, wiping sweat from his forehead. Lord it was hot, and since they had yet to devise any sort of torches, all the labor took place by necessity during the day. He was proud of all they'd done so far. The chickens had been the first priority so they would start laying eggs where they could find them.

He'd decided an outhouse was the next priority. He didn't mind going rough, but he knew it bothered Kate, and they needed a way to manage their waste. Luckily they'd found a perfect location for it, and while digging out the hole had been a nightmare, he knew it would last them a long, long time. He ruthlessly shoved down the thought that if they weren't rescued he'd need to dig a new one in a few years.

Kate thought he was spending all his time on the framework now, but he'd been able to finish that quickly. The post-hole digger was invaluable, allowing him to bury bamboo poles in the 4 corners. Using an x-gouging technique in the poles that he'd learned from an overzealous Scout leader had allowed him to quickly cross-brace the poles. He'd used some long grasses twisted into a ropy line to tie them. They had nylon rope from the ship, but he was loath to use that for something like an outhouse.

After the frame of the outhouse was complete, he'd formed a rough sloped roof and thatched it with leaves as he'd been taught in his months amongst the islands. Split bamboo formed the floor and covered the hole. He'd built a rough seat with a square hole. With time he might refine it, but it was functional. There wasn't a ton of privacy, as he'd not taken the time to completely wall it in. However, with just the two of them, he figured it didn't matter. Certainly not to him.

He had yet to let Kate know it was essentially done. The reason for his secrecy was in front of him at the moment. He'd spent nearly all of a morning searching for just the right tree, finally finding a nice straight breadfruit tree that took the rest of the morning to fell. He'd then spent the rest of the day before their usual swim cutting the trunk into the correct length.

He had a few more days left before it would be done, but it was now obviously the beginnings of a canoe. Hollowing it out was incredibly taxing, but it was coming along. Because it was small, he would only need one outrigger. There would be two sets of paddles, but it would be perfectly safe to handle alone if he stuck to the calm lake.

Kate had been bugging him about a canoe from the first night they'd found sanctuary. She was so focused on rescue that she didn't think any other project should be attempted. He'd gotten to the point that any mention of the subject put his teeth on edge. She was right, the most likely time for rescue was in the next few weeks. However, she didn't know Tamahere like he did. He would never have left Rick behind if he'd thought he was alive.

Thus, when Rick considered the odds of a rescue party, he was pretty sure the chances were slim to none. Perhaps they'd send a recovery party at some point, looking for their bodies. But there was no urgency to looking for a dead person, and even fewer funds. Which was one reason why Rick had been dragging his feet. He was terrified if Kate realized no one was looking for them that she'd fall even deeper into the despair that seemed to grip her more firmly day by day. Taking away any hope of being found would be a crushing blow for anyone.

But….But, when he thought about it, there were two doubts that niggled at him, made him question if he was making the right decision. One, was that he was contributing to the gloom that was enveloping Kate by not giving her the possibility of rescue. He could easily fix that by building a canoe.

The second, of course, was the possibility that Tamahere had been injured and the decision to leave had been in Tane's hands, or that worm Henri. If Tamahere harbored any doubts, he would surely mount some sort of expedition to look for them.

It was mainly the first thought that had driven Rick to starting the canoe project. He couldn't let her lose all hope if he were able to provide some relief. He further justified the project by thinking about how it wouldn't hurt to be able to explore the island more thoroughly. They could fish in it, cross the lake if needed for exploration and foraging; maybe even look around the island's neighborhood to see if there were any other land masses nearby.

Yet, he'd kept Kate in the dark about the whole thing. He wasn't sure why. Though he could imagine her surprise and delight when he revealed the secret. How excited she might be; her eyes would light up and she'd give him one of those huge smiles that seemed to light up the whole world. She hadn't had any of those recently. She worked hard, and more than carried her weight, but he could tell something was bothering her. Something made her morose; more than just the lack of rescue opportunities. Something in her past. He still had no idea what had brought her to the South Pacific, what she might be escaping from. She was entirely too melancholic for it to have just been a light hearted vacation.

It was really none of his business, to be honest. And certainly nothing that really interested him. Or at least it _shouldn't_.

They just had to get along enough to build a safe life here, until by some miracle they were rescued. He wouldn't allow himself to dwell on the fact that they'd been driven far from their expected route. That deep down, he believed rescue was extremely unlikely. And that Kate might very well be the last human he ever spent time with. The fact that he looked forward to seeing her and wanted to try and cheer her up was buried even deeper. He was done with women, even if she might very well be the last person on earth, as far as his life was concerned.

* * *

April, 2010

Tamahere stretched, groaning. The pile of papers Afaitu had brought him from Hopo was nearly all deciphered and typed faithfully into his laptop. It had taken him several days this time, as Hopo was a prolific writer. Not surprising; he had little else to do and one hell of a story to tell.

Tamahere was enjoying reading it, watching it unfold. It was fascinating to see how they had banded together, survived such an unbelievable circumstance. Yet, it was difficult. He'd been a part of the story, at least at the beginning. This last chapter hit home with an especially sharp pang as he read of Hopo's fears over his own fate and the possibility he would send a rescue party.

He hadn't, of course. He'd thought them long dead. Believed the lies of a man he'd never trusted. Guilt twisted in him once more. He would do anything to atone for his role in the charade.

He had one more chapter to translate, then would upload everything to the shared folder that Afaitu had created so they could communicate while he was gone to the U.S. Afaitu's college friend, Adriana, was a computer expert. She'd been asked about creating a safe way for a scenario in which the lawyer wanted to keep client documents safe, even from a government that had a controlling interest in the one internet service provider available.

The answer had been to use a Wi-Fi connection, which Tamahere set up without any fanfare in the rental home. He'd then been told to download a program that allowed him to change the proxy server, so he could use an anonymous IP address. Coupled with another program that he bought which encrypted the files on his laptop, Afaitu's laptop and any thumb drives they used, he felt they were as safe as possible.

It wasn't perfect, but he'd seen no evidence of undue scrutiny from the government agents for weeks. He didn't want to fall into the trap of being unwary, but for the time the benefit of Afaitu having access to the files he'd deciphered outweighed the risk. If Hopo's mother were to believe them, she'd want to read the story as they knew it up till now as well.

Stretching again, he thought about how much he'd have to decipher once Afaitu got back from the U.S. Hopo was probably scribbling away at this very moment. Though, if they were successful in their bid to free him, Hopo himself could type the rest out for them. Buoyed by that thought, he resumed his seat at the laptop and started in on the last chapter.

* * *

**Ok, my map of the Island is now up on Tumblr. **

**Continued thanks to all reading and enjoying this adventure. I really love hearing your thoughts and ideas, so keep 'em coming. Remember to read CharacterDriven's spin off fic regarding the chickens' experience. It's hilarious.**


	19. Chapter 19

**This chapter is dedicated to ebfiddler. Writer of some of the longest PMs and reviews I've ever had, it's been a true pleasure corresponding with her. I continue to be humbled by the incredible people who've written me after enjoying my story, and meeting people like her (and the rest of you!) is one of the best things about publishing this story. Thanks so much for the incredible discussions we've had, and I look forward to many more.**

* * *

December, 1999

He finished the canoe in the late morning three days later. Two days after he'd given in and showed Kate the finished outhouse. She hated wandering around the jungle looking for places to 'do her business' and he knew he had to stop keeping the completed structure a secret. It wasn't fair to her, and her reaction on seeing the finished product was very gratifying.

So, while one little lie—the outhouse being done—was revealed, he'd entered into another. She currently thought he'd begun harvesting bamboo in anticipation of finally starting the permanent shelter. He was pretty sure she'd forgive him when she saw the canoe. At least he _hoped_ she would.

It was not the most beautiful canoe; simple hand tools and a severe lack of time left it more than a bit rough around the edges. However, it was so much sleeker than the awkward raft they'd used to escape the _Iriata_; it looked like a dolphin compared to a tanker when he thought of the comparison.

Rough oars had been carved out of several branches from the downed tree, and he scavenged all the ripe breadfruit from it that he could find. Unfortunately, the tree had not been all that near the water, and he was going to need help dragging the finished canoe to the shore. Time to face the music.

* * *

Kate was working on leaves and coco fiber, as he'd asked of her. They needed as much rope as they could make for a variety of reasons. He found her cutting the outer thorns off of some Pandanus leaves in their 'kitchen.'

"How's it going?" Not the most brilliant conversation opener, but things weren't easy between them. He hadn't discovered why she was so remote and reserved, and hoped the canoe would spark some of the dancing life back into her eyes. He missed that Kate.

"Fine." She looked up, through her lashes, and the vision made his heart stop. Her hair was getting bleached from the sun, streaky highlights evident as she was wearing it loose today. Her skin was bronzed from the tropical rays, and she'd worked up quite a sweat while curing the leaves. He looked away for a minute, trying to remember that he had no interest in this woman. Any woman. It was becoming harder to remember his reasons why.

After regaining his equilibrium, he looked back to her. She'd resumed cutting the thorns, obviously not interested in why he was bothering her. It was hotter than he'd imagined in the open kitchen and he made a mental note to put more of a priority on the pergola and cooking shelter construction.

"Do you have some time to help me?"

She looked up again. "I thought you were cutting bamboo."

He looked a bit sheepish, squeamish with the lie, though he knew she'd be pleased with the results of his labor.

"I've been working on something else."

She threw down the shell she was using to scrape the leaves with. "I _knew_ it. You've been sneaking around here for days. Disappearing for hours and returning without any bamboo at all. I thought you said building a real shelter was the next project? I've been working hard to get all the rope you said we needed for it started, and you won't even tell me what you're up to. God, this is so frustrating!"

Before he could blink, she was stalking off towards the lake. He stood frozen for a minute. '_What the hell just happened_?' he wondered before hesitantly following.

She was standing facing the lake, shoulders hunched over, shaking. Sobbing. He approached to within a few inches, then waited. He could hear her crying now and finally reached out to grip her shoulder. He didn't know what else to do, though just being there and listening had always helped when his mother had gotten turned down for yet another role.

"Kate? I didn't mean to sneak around. I have a surprise for you."

She kept sniffing for a few more seconds before suddenly spinning and wrapping herself into his arms. He was so shocked at the contact that he automatically hugged her back as her tears dripped onto his shirt.

"I'm s-s-sorry Rick. I don't mean to be such a bitch."

"It's okay; I don't think you're a bitch."

"Y-yes you do. You never want to swim with me. You're always avoiding me."

Well, there was some truth to that. Not because he wanted to avoid her. Because he didn't want to be tempted by her.

"I'm not avoiding you Kate. I just like to swim alone." Alone with his lascivious thoughts. That had no place in their relationship. At all. Yet.

"Y-y-you don't h-hate me?"

"No! I don't hate you. I can't think of _anyone_ I'd rather be stuck with on a deserted island."

"P-promise?"

"Yes."

She slowly stopped sobbing, moving away from him in evident embarrassment for her breakdown. He ignored the fact that a part of him missed holding her in his arms.

He decided to push his luck. After all, he was pretty sure she'd be excited about the canoe.

"Kate, I want you to know if there's anything you want to talk about, I'm a pretty good listener."

She'd turned away from him, shoulders still shaking, though much less than before.

"I can't. I can't talk about it yet," she said, voice breaking slightly.

"Ok. But I'm here when you need me."

Wiping her eyes, she turned back towards him.

"You said you had a surprise?"

"Well, I kind of need your help with it. But you're gonna like it, I promise."

* * *

When they got close to the site where the canoe was waiting, Rick stopped her.

"Close your eyes."

"What? No."

"Oh, c'mon. You want to be surprised don't you?"

"You've already surprised me today when you told me that you hadn't been doing what you were supposed to be doing."

"Ok, that's a good point. But that was a bad surprise, because you yelled at me. This is a good surprise. You're gonna love it."

"Really? You've found an airplane?" she asked, one eyebrow cocked and eyes twinkling.

"No."

"A motorboat?"

"No."

"A freezer stocked with ice cream?"

"…no."

"A lifetime supply of chocolate?"

"….no."

"Well, then I don't think I'm going to be all that excited, Rick."

He could see she was still teasing, trying to lighten the mood that her crying had created.

"I'm pretty sure you will be, but if you don't want to see it, then I suppose we can go back and continue curing the leaves." He turned, pretending he was going back to Pereora.

"Alright, fine. I'll close my eyes. But I swear to God, if you let me trip on something, I'm going to be very unhappy with you."

"I promise, I'll be careful."

They were only a few yards from the canoe, but the underbrush camouflaged everything. He led her slowly forward, and to her credit she completely trusted him to walk her safely to the surprise.

When they arrived, he stopped her gently. "Ok, open your eyes!" he said, keeping his on her face to see her reaction. It was worth it.

Delight, shock, joy all flitted across her face. Then a smile that filled her face took over. He'd never seen the like before. It was that smile that he would later realize had captured him in her orbit forever. He would dedicate the rest of his life trying to get her to smile like that at him over and over. But at the time it simply struck him speechless for a moment.

"Oh, Rick! It's wonderful! You did this?"

Gulping, he found his voice. "Yeah, I've been working on it for a while. I have a confession…"

She looked at him with an eyebrow cocked, through her lashes. He gulped again. Thinking back to the day he'd first seen her and worried she was going to be the death of him. More looks like this one would do the trick.

"Imayhavefinishedtheouthouseafewdaysago," he spewed, hoping she'd be too overwhelmed by the canoe to pay much attention to his confession.

She did not. Turning toward him, she playfully slapped his shoulder, still smiling that smile.

"I'll forgive you for this surprise. Let's get it in the water!"

Rick had attached a long stick perpendicular to the bow to use as a handle for them to drag the canoe to the water. Each taking a side, they lifted the bow by the handle and started dragging it towards the lake, the oars and pieces of the outrigger safely stowed in the canoe.

It took a lot of sweat, a few curse words and the better part of an hour to achieve their goal. It was a heavy craft and the underbrush often had to be chopped away to allow them through. However, they finally won their freedom. They walked the canoe right into the lake, neither caring about their hot and sweaty clothes.

"Can we try it out?" asked Kate.

"Sure. We need to practice, and then tomorrow I was thinking we'd go explore the outer part of the island."

"Really?" she squealed.

"Really. But we have to be completely comfortable working with each other."

"Well let's get started!" she exclaimed.

He showed her how to remove the handles from the bow, storing them below the seats. He wanted to keep them to make beaching and launching the canoe a bit easier. Then he demonstrated how to attach the outrigger. Finally, they were ready to launch the craft. Rick had enough foresight to have brought their life jackets from Pereora, so after donning them he had Kate get in the canoe while he launched it from the beach. Clambering in without upsetting their balance was their first test, but he managed well. The outrigger made much more stable than the canoes he'd been in as a child.

They developed their rhythm again fairly quickly. The raft they'd taken from the _Iriata_ had been so unwieldy that for the most part they were just paddling furiously away from rocks while letting the current carry them. This canoe was like a dream compared to that experience. They were soon darting across the surface of the lake, both in sync with the other.

* * *

"Ready to head back?" Rick asked. They were on the far side of the lake, lazily paddling past the shore. Rick had been re-examining the variety of trees on this side of the lake. It would now be fairly simple to cross the lake with the canoe, so their foraging territory was now greatly expanded.

"Yeah. I think I'm going to need to work on these oar handles a bit," said Kate.

"They are a bit rough. We don't have any sand paper, but there is plenty of pumice around since this is an old volcano. I'll work on them when we get back."

As they started back across, Rick took a moment to marvel at the beauty before him. The sky was a perfect blue, with fluffy white clouds scudding across it. The contrast with the steep, dark jagged edges of the volcano that gave way to the verdant jungle, which in turn gave way to the azure waters that he was skimming across, was very dramatic. If they weren't still struggling to survive in this wilderness it would have been a relaxing sight.

Yes, the scenery was beautiful. But the woman in front of him was breathtaking. Her sun-kissed hair lay in waves, spilling down to her shoulders. Her skin had been bronzed almost as deeply as his. She was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, same as he was. The labor they'd been forced to do over the last ten days or so made her muscles quite defined. She had never been soft looking, but now that their very survival depended on their own hard labor, her body was even leaner.

It was time to stop lying to himself, Rick decided. He was more than attracted to her; any man would be. She was a gorgeous woman. And now that he'd spent so much time with her, he'd come to appreciate her deep intelligence and wit. He could sense she was still closed off from him. She held part of herself back. There was a grief that he could see in her eyes on occasion that he still didn't understand. Though in fairness he had his own secrets. But he hoped with time, as they came to trust and rely on each other for everything, that they would become true friends and perhaps much, much more.

* * *

The next morning dawned sunny and bright after a night of intermittent downpours. It almost seemed like a holiday, with no work to start in on immediately. They enjoyed a quick breakfast with fried breadfruit and eggs. A feast, compared to some days.

Part of the previous evening had been spent deciding what to bring with them. Food and water were obvious choices. There was no guarantee they'd find either outside of their freshwater lagoon. Rick decided to bring a precious piece of his paper and a pen. He wanted to be able to jot down thoughts and to draw a rough map of the outer island.

They were also carrying a colorful blanket. It could be used as a signal if they saw anyone, a quick shelter if needed, and could be used as a sack to carry loose items. Rick had brought their longest rope. He tied it in regular increments, with the very end weighted down with a rock. He was planning to use it as a way to determine the depth of the water in various places. Since it was still whole, he had been able to make ten knots every three feet or so. Finally, their large bucket was emptied and waiting. Rick had the idea that they might bring back some fish or more shells, depending on what they found.

He had wrapped the oars with some rags after the idea to use some pumice stone as a type of sanding agent failed to do more than get rid of the sharpest ridges. He planned to weave some bamboo leaves together later and use that as a wrap, but there was no time to cure the leaves. The rags worked well, he just hated to use them on oars as a long term solution.

Life jackets on, they set out. Rick could see that Kate was brimming with excitement. He hoped that she was in as good spirits when they came back.

When they reached the mouth of the channel that led to the ocean, they paused for Rick to use the rope to measure depth. The whole thing played out without touching bottom, though with a current flowing it was hard to say if that altered the angle of the rope.

Satisfied with the fact that the lake was fairly deep at this point, they entered the channel for the first time since their arrival. As the walls rose steeply around them and the light was softly filtered through the tree leaves above, it reminded Rick of a cathedral of sorts. They took their time paddling over to the cliff walls on both sides. The water was a deep blue; tasting it, Rick discovered it was quite salty, though not as much as the ocean. He took a few more rope measurements; all points were deeper than the rope.

The opening of the channel into the ocean looked as hazardous coming out as it had entering it. The jagged rocks guarding it, now on their right, would have no problem grinding up an incautious mariner. Keeping well to the left, they easily passed through the narrow opening and burst out into the bright sunlight covering the ocean.

"Stop paddling for a minute Kate," he said as they moved a few yards past the channel.

"Ok. Why?" she asked, turning around from the seat in front.

"I just want to see if it's a flowing tide or an ebbing tide," he told her. As they continued to be pulled out, he knew it was an ebbing tide.

His eyes had now adjusted to the brilliance of the full sun, and he looked around the corona of jagged rocks that had been the doom of the _Iriata_.

"Damn. She's gone." He could see no signs there had ever been a boat near the island.

"You mean the _Iriata_?" Kate asked.

"Yes. I was thinking if she was still there we could try and scavenge a few more items. She must have been lifted off the rock with the spring tide." The moon was just now starting to wane from full.

"Do you want to paddle out there and see if we can find anything?" she asked.

"Might as well. I'd like to make a circuit around the whole island, make sure we're not missing anything. It would be better to be outside of the rocks while we're paddling."

They made their way over to where they thought the _Iriata_ had been caught. It was hard to tell one rock from another, and to their disappointment there was no trace of the ship.

Next, they started making their way around the island. Rick watched the horizons around them carefully; there were some larger rock formations that cropped up here and there, but none that approached the size of the island. Certainly nothing habitable near them.

As for the island itself, he had been correct in assuming the sides rose straight from the sea. There weren't even any beaches to be seen, just water meeting rock at a near constant ninety degree angle. It was a very forbidding appearance, and if he'd not been marooned on it, he would have sworn it was uninhabitable.

He saw Kate's shoulders slumping once they'd made it halfway around the island and could see no other islands or ships in any direction.

Desperate to cheer her up, he saw a pod of dolphins playing in the lagoon surrounding the island. He tapped her on the shoulder and pointed them out. She immediately brightened and they paddled over near the pod and watched them play for a good fifteen minutes. The water here was a very clear blue and it was much shallower. Rick measured it at seven knots, which was around twenty one feet.

Continuing on, they came around to the rocks that had captured the _Iriata_ once more.

"Look at the island, Kate," Rick suddenly said, breaking the silence that had reigned for a good half hour.

"What about it?"

"Can you see the cleft where the channel lies?"

She peered at the rocky cliffs. She knew where it was, but from their position there didn't appear to be any opening at all.

"No. It looks just like the rest of the walls." She turned to look back at him again.

"That's not good, is it?" she asked.

He regarded her thoughtfully. "No, it's not. I think anyone who passes this island must think there is no way to the interior without going over the cliffs, which are too steep to invite any exploration. Because of these rocks, no one is going to want to approach too closely. At some point there must have been some Polynesians that visited; the variety of plants is too wide to have developed without help. But there's no evidence anyone ever lived there. I imagine with how tricky the entrance is to navigate that everyone gave up long ago on this island."

"So we're not going to have anyone stumble upon us while we're living in the interior, are we?"

"No; I'm not sure anyone still living even remembers that there is a way into the island, besides us of course."

"Then we'll have to make something on one of the beaches that flank the channel to show that we're here."

Rick nodded, though he was having doubts about the beaches as well. They were awfully narrow.

"Which one first?"

"Let's just head to the closest one, there," he replied, pointing to the beach on the left side of the cleft.

They reached the beach fifteen minutes later; Rick jumped out and together they managed to bring the canoe up far enough on the beach so they could get out and explore.

It was a very narrow strip of sand. There were some coconut palms that were growing right next to the cliffs, but nothing much else to offer any excitement. They were able to go from one end to the other within a half hour.

"Not much here," Rick finally said to her.

"No. Do you think we could leave a message of some sort? Like gather some rocks and make an SOS sign on the beach?"

Rick slowly shook his head, then grabbed her hand and walked her up to the cliff wall. "See this mark? How it's damp?"

"Yes," she said slowly.

"It's still wet, right? I'm pretty sure this beach is so small that the spring high tides completely cover it. Any stones we leave will be washed away."

Kate let out a frustrated huff and turned away, disappointed, but not wanting him to see how much it upset her. However, he knew she was feeling distressed and why.

"Kate," he said softly, drawing her attention. "The other beach looks bigger, at least what we've seen of it. Let's head over to it. We need to eat, so we'll make a picnic of it and see what that side of the channel has to offer, ok?"

She looked up at him then gave him that smile that he'd come to love so much.

"Ok. Thanks, Rick."

"For what?"

"For trying to keep my spirits up. I know I can be moody. I just want someone to find us so badly. I'm more than grateful for what this island has given us so far, but we have to be found eventually. And I'm terrified that if we're essentially stuck inside, that it might take a long time to find us."

"Well, we'll do whatever we can to make our presence known. Other than that, it's just a matter of time. But, can I just say that while we're waiting, we should remember to live?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, eyes showing her confusion.

"I mean I think we should remember to enjoy what life has to offer us in the here and now and not spend a lot of time worrying about what will happen and when it will happen. We're alive, Kate. There are so many things that could have happened that wouldn't have had the same outcome. The boat could have sunk quickly. We might not have been able to have had the time to build the raft. The raft might have tipped. We might never have found the channel into the island. The island might have been without freshwater or so many kinds of edible plants and fruits. Maybe I wouldn't have made it and you would have had to make it alone. So many, many things. We have to remember to celebrate what we have and not spend too much time dwelling on what we don't have. That's all."

Kate looked at him in wonder. He was right. She tended to focus on the negative of a situation very quickly. Perhaps this was the result of her trauma, the loss of her mother. Whatever the reason, she was thankful to be alive and thankful she wasn't alone.

"You're right. I'm not always the most positive person, and the end of the year is a really tough time for me. I hope you know I am really appreciative of what we have, and that I'm especially glad you're here with me. I trust you, Rick. You know what to do and you've been very patient, teaching me the skills I need to learn."

"Well, it's been a pleasure to teach you what I know. You're a fast learner."

"Thanks, Rick. Shall we?"

They shoved off of the narrow beach and made their way over to the next one. It was larger, with a few more trees and a high tide mark that didn't quite reach the cliff base, though it was fairly close to it. Finding some shade beneath the trees, they sat and ate their lunch and discussed their next steps.

"There are some loose rocks at the cliff base. We'll gather them and make a sign, though I'm afraid it won't be very big," Rick told her, munching on some coconut before drinking from one of the water bottles they'd brought with them.

"Ok. It shouldn't take long. Anything else you want to do?" Kate asked him.

"Yeah, the lagoon out here is full of fish, oysters and clams that we don't have in the freshwater lake. I'd love to go for a swim once we're done with the sign and see what we can find."

"Sounds good. And I'd like to get some bigger shells if we can. They're handy for lots of things, especially scraping leaves."

The sign came together quickly, and while Rick had his doubts that it would be visible from beyond the surrounding rocky reefs, at least Kate felt they'd done what they could to show they were there. They included an arrow that pointed at the channel opening to the left side of the beach.

The rest of the time they spent swimming around the shallow lagoon. Rick caught a few crabs and found some oysters, all of which went in the bucket with sea water to keep the crabs alive. He tried to catch a few fish as well, but had no success other than making Kate laugh at the sight of his spectacular fails.

Kate found a dozen shells to keep, some of them just because they were beautiful. The majority was to use as work tools, but she couldn't resist some of the delicately colored ones that she found. She noticed Rick seemed to want to spend more time with her; he didn't swim off like he often did when they were in the lake. She felt the trip had been a great success, even though she had realized it was unlikely a randomly passing ship was going to notice they were there.

She felt closer to Rick, she no longer had to imagine what lay outside of their interior home, and she could look forward to a dinner of crab, sweet potato and cooked taro leaves, which had a spinach-like taste when cooked. Yes, it had been a great day, and she vowed to try to keep the things that made her thankful in the front of her mind instead of shoving them to the side and sinking into depressive feelings and thoughts. Though she knew she wouldn't be able to do this last vow with January rushing towards her. But she'd try, for now.

* * *

**Thank you all again for your support and enthusiasm for this story. Our next chapter, 20, will give us our first glimpse of Martha and what she's been up to. It's one of my favorites, and I hope you all enjoy it.**


	20. Chapter 20: Lost in Manhattan

**This chapter is dedicated to wendykw. She's always encouraged me in all our correspondence. A talented writer in her own right, she's always quick to send positive thoughts my way. She's dealt with a lot in her life. We all travel through the journey of our lives with challenges, joys, tragedies and triumphs. It's who you are through the low points that really define your character. Here's to one of the best!**

* * *

April, 2010

Afaitu wearily gathered his things as the Air Tahiti Nui flight taxied to the jetway at JFK. Some sixteen hours and one layover in L.A. later, and here he was. About to embark on either a mission of great consequence, or about to fail utterly. Perhaps both.

It was fortunate that Tamahere had spent so many years ignoring the guilt money that Grollet threw at him. Afaitu could never have afforded the airfare, let alone the hotel, that they'd chosen. His law practice was successful, but success in the islands is measured by a completely different stick than in a city such as New York. Tamahere's story of a wayward pig, the one he'd used to get in the door with, had been no accident. These were the kind of cases one found on Mo'orea.

Not that Afaitu had any regrets about where he lived or what he did. He helped people, was respected in the community, and lived in an area of the world considered by many to be a paradise. A place where people all over the world wanted to visit, if only for a few days or a week.

However, he was now involved in something much, much bigger. Afaitu had never been entrapped in such a Gordian knot. He knew so many threads were dependent on his actions now. The life of Rick. The life of Kate Beckett. Perhaps the lives of Tamahere and himself. He had to succeed.

* * *

The city was overwhelming. He'd never been in such a place. It was freezing, made more dramatic by the fact that the country Afaitu hailed from never dropped below 10 degrees Celsius* in its most southerly islands, rather than due to truly cold temperatures by New York standards. It smelled. Stank, really. There were wall to wall people, like ants crawling busily on a jungle floor, only in this case the jungle was paved. There was very little evidence of nature, only the monuments men built to themselves. Enormous buildings, enormous highways, enormous bridges. Nothing of Mother Nature was left to show the human race that beauty comes from the song of a bird, not the honk of a horn. The gentle shimmer of a flower in the breeze, not the noxious odor emanating from a subway grate. He hated the place. He was a slow walking stranger, marked as a tourist without even opening his mouth.

His hotel had been chosen for two reasons: the price and its proclamation of being within walking distance to Broadway. Mostly for the price. While not cheap, it was reasonable. And comfortable enough. He wasn't here to rest in luxury. He had a job to do.

They'd not tried to phone Martha Rodgers from Tahiti, fearful of listening ears or watchful eyes that would wonder about calls from a certain lawyer in Mo'orea who happened to have Jean Dupont as a client.

However, during his layover in L.A. he'd tried unsuccessfully to reach her. There was no getting through with the numbers he'd been given by Rick. No surprise, really. Her life had been altered dramatically by events over the last ten years.

Rick had also given him the last address she'd lived at when Rick had fled New York. Afaitu had no real hope that she still lived there, but he'd tried it first, once he'd rested sufficiently to have enough wits about him to start in on the search. The suspicious people who lived there now were somewhat used to strangers asking about the famous Martha Rodger's former home, and were either unwilling or unable to give him any hints as to where she might live now. He'd expected as much.

His true plan involved finding her at work. In most people's cases that meant an office of some sort. For Martha Rodgers, it currently meant the Lyceum Theater, on 45th Street. It was just off Times Square, and was famed as the oldest continually operating, legitimate Broadway theater. She was starring in a play called Looped that had opened March 14th to rave reviews.

Plan A had been simple. He'd buy a ticket to a show, enjoy her magnificent performance, then approach her afterwards. He'd had absolutely no idea the sheer _volume_ of people that would be at the show, nor appreciated the degree of security that prevented regular people from contacting the actors. Plan A had bitten the dust three days ago.

Plan B? Well, it had gone belly up as well. He'd started staking out the theater. The shows were generally in the evening. She didn't live there. Ergo, she had to come to the theater at some point, then leave afterwards. He figured his window of opportunity would be brief, but at least there would be a chance.

Thankfully, there was a sign of encouragement from the heavens above, in the form of a marvelous store called Starbucks right across from the theater. And this marvel had free Wi-Fi! Wonders would never cease; this particular wonder had allowed him to download Rick's story to date, courtesy of Tamahere's industrious typing.

He'd spent two days ensconced in the store's warm confines, nursing a delicious concoction and watching, watching, watching. With nothing to show for it. She never appeared. Not once. Either the woman was a magician or he had missed something.

Now he was on Plan C. Born part by desperation—he only had a few more days before his return flight—and determination—he had to succeed. One of the baristas at Starbucks had noticed his intense interest in the theater on his second fruitless night. Teasing him about being a stalker, he took the opportunity to let it slip that he was a lawyer. He hinted that he needed to serve papers to one of the more minor actors in the play, but couldn't find the man's address. Spinning a yarn about an annoyed boss that would tug at anyone's heart strings, he finally discovered why he never saw any of the actors coming or going from the theater. There was another entrance, and it was on 46th street!

Which was why he found himself now shivering near the unremarkable door that the barista reassured him was for the cast. There was no warm Starbucks to comfort him during his wait on this street: a French restaurant and a parking garage flanked the door. He was relegated to stomping his feet in a vain attempt to keep blood flowing to digits that preferred warm sand. He vowed for the hundredth time that he'd never leave the South Pacific again.

Another glance at his watch showed the play had finished nearly an hour ago. He was beginning to despair once more, when a limo pulled to the curb and parked, waiting. Just like him. He moved closer to the entrance door, knowing his moment would be upon him soon.

The theater door swung open; a tall, thin man bustled through and hurried to the limo, where he stood by the door to the passenger section. A few seconds later, the door opened again and a large man sauntered out, eyes searching all about him, as Martha Rodgers followed. As she hurried to the car, Afaitu called out to her.

"Mrs. Rodgers, Mrs. Rodgers. I must talk to you."

The large man, clearly a security guard, had already fixed on him. Afaitu tried to ignore the man, and called out again to the woman who was almost to the car now, door held open by the first man.

"It's about your son."

She had now stepped into the car. At the same time the giant security guard had reached out and grabbed him by the front of his coat. He was lifted off the ground, yet all his attention was focused on the woman who'd disappeared into the depths of the car. As the door swung closed with a slam, it was though he could hear the slam of the prison doors of Nuutania clanging shut on all their hopes.

The limo drove off and Afaitu knew he was finished. He slumped, defeated. The giant's arms flexed and he knew he was about to be hurled bodily away. It didn't matter what happened now. He had failed.

"Wait, Davis. Put him against the wall. I want to talk to him."

Afaitu was thrust against the brick wall. The man who'd held the door for Mrs. Rodgers approached. There was nowhere to go; the giant Davis was essentially holding him in place, and any passersby that looked to help changed their mind once they took a closer glance at the humongous bodyguard.

Studying the other man, Afaitu noticed he seemed about Mrs. Rodgers age. He knew she wasn't currently married, at least according to Wikipedia, but he could be a boyfriend. Or manager. He had sharp, aquiline features and seemed to have a scowl permanently affixed to his face. Though the current circumstances might have influenced his mood. Afaitu sure wasn't feeling very optimistic at the moment.

"Why are you bothering Mrs. Rodgers?"

Afaitu hesitated. He didn't know either of these men; the plan had always centered on Rick's mom. Could he trust them? Should he?

"For a stalker, you sure picked a strange way of getting her attention. Mentioning her son was a stupid idea," the older man spit. Davis, the giant, remained silent. Afaitu wasn't convinced the man could speak.

"I'm not a stalker. I came a long way to talk to her, but I've not been able to get a message to her. I was just trying to tell her something important."

The other man looked at him speculatively. "Where did you come from?"

Hesitating again, Afaitu looked at him pleadingly. "How can I know if I can trust you? Please, this is very important. I can assure you Mrs. Rodgers will want to hear the message."

"You can trust me. I'm her manager. I'm involved in all aspects of her life."

"Sir, this is a very delicate matter. The very lives of several people are in my hands. I cannot give the information to anyone but Mrs. Rodgers."

"Her son is dead. Everyone knows that story. It's been ten years, for God's sake. Almost no one brings it up anymore, drags open that wound, yet here you are stirring it all up. There's nothing you could tell her that will bring her son back, but you're begging for an audience that will leave her emotionally drained once again?" His eyes flashed, grief visible. "I won't let you. I don't know who you are or what purpose you think this all serves, but I will _not _let you bring this up and devastate us all over again. Now, don't let me see you near her any more or I won't have Davis here treat you so gently next time."

The other man turned to go and Afaitu knew there were no more options. All was lost if he remained silent. A tiny chance was better than nothing.

"Sir, you don't understand. Her son is alive."

These words froze the manager. He remained with his back to Afaitu, then slowly turned to face him again. Afaitu could not read the expression on his face; hoping this was a good sign, he continued.

"He is alive; I have brought a message from him that will prove I speak the truth."

"And why is he not here in person? Why has he been hidden all these years?"

"Yes, yes, I can explain that. At least what I know. Believe me, there is a very good reason for it. And _please_ also believe me when I say it is the most delicate matter you can imagine. His life, and the life of another hang in the balance."

At these words, the other man visibly trembled. "There's more to this than just her son?"

"Yes, but this is not the time or place to be discussing these matters. There are forces arrayed that would act very negatively against our interests, if they were to know the truth. Please, I beg you; let me present my information to Mrs. Rodgers. She will confirm I speak the truth, I assure you."

The other man stared at him, taking his measure. Giving a sigh, he gestured to Davis, who promptly backed away and started looking menacingly at the other pedestrians.

"Ok, Mr….."

"Tutomo," Afaitu supplied.

"Mr. Tutomo," the manager said, slowly rolling the name over his tongue. "A strange name, for a strange man, with a very strange request. I'll take you to Mrs. Rodgers. But I have to warn you, if this is some elaborate joke or prank, you'll wish you'd never shown up here tonight."

"It is no joke, sir. You will not regret this."

* * *

The car ride was silent, surreal. Afaitu wasn't used to the artificial glare that emanated from the city at night. The harsh lights hurt his eyes, and the lurid ads that jockeyed for attention gave him a headache. He sat back, trying to relax as best he could while sitting next to the bodyguard, Davis. Praying that Martha Rodgers would give him at least enough time to present the message from her son and read it. Not at all sure what to do if she was as hostile as these men had been. Never, in the planning of this mission, had he considered that she might refuse to see someone claiming her son was alive. He felt the specter of failure growing closer and tensed his shoulders, vowing to do whatever it took to get her to listen to him.

Pulling up to a handsome brownstone, Afaitu had no idea where they were or how he'd find his way back to his hotel. He just knew that the next ten minutes (hopefully more) would be one of the turning points of this story, however it would ultimately be written. A tragedy? Comedy? Drama? Horror?

The manager led him up the stairs to the front door, while Davis remained behind. He probably had some gargoyles to try and emulate, or something similar. Unlocking the front door with his own key, the manager led him inside. The house was beautiful: elegantly decorated, though it was apparent even to an island boy like him that the pieces were incredibly expensive. It was welcoming and tasteful.

He was led to a room that he supposed was called a parlor. There were opposing couches and a few armchairs grouped together around an elegant low table. He sat down to think in one of the chairs while the manager, whose name he'd still not learned, excused himself to go find Mrs. Rodgers. Retrieving the papers he needed to present, he waited, lost in thought. Five minutes later, he could hear the sounds of an argument as the other two approached. He stood expectantly, waiting...hoping.

"I don't want to hear what he says! I don't want to go through all this again," exclaimed a female voice. Having just seen her in the play, Afaitu knew it belonged to Martha Rodgers.

"Just five minutes, Martha. Surely that's not too much to bear?"

"Why are you doing this? You know how much his death has grieved me. Nothing this man has to say will change the fact that my son is dead. You, yourself, told me I had to let him rest in peace, and start living my life again," she cried.

"I know, Martha, I know. And I was right, at that time. But, what if this man could give you some information about Richard? Isn't it worth the risk? To know something?"

"I don't understand why you're so sure he _knows_ something. The play has been open under a month, we're having great success so far—they're even talking about another Tony nomination! And now this man is threatening everything. I can't bear to think of him, dead out there somewhere, not knowing where. It will be _devastating_ to crash down from yet another false alarm. Nothing has ever panned out; you know that, as well as I do."

"I know, I know," soothed the man's voice. "I just think we should listen to what he says. He claims he won't talk to anyone but you, says it's a matter of life and death."

"Of course he does! That's how these people try to get your attention. Really, I can't believe you fell for this. _You,_ of all people."

Afaitu could hear that she was about to turn around and leave. He strode to the opening of the door; it looked out into a hall, where he could see the manager and the actress facing each other about three meters away. The red head looked quite angry. Gathering his courage, he cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the other two.

"Mrs. Rodgers, please. I promise you will not regret this audience. I beg you." He injected all of the sincerity and desperation he possessed, pleading with his eyes, his words, his entire being.

She stared at him, tears visibly tracking down her face. Abruptly, she shook off her manager's hand on her shoulder and stalked toward the parlor.

"Fine," she bit out. "I'll give you two minutes; you've already upset me, so I suppose I can give you that much time. After that, you'll leave quietly, do you understand?" She'd come to a stop next to him. Afaitu could see the command in her eyes, the incalculable grief that she carried. He simply nodded, turned to allow her to pass and followed. The manager shuffled forward after them.

* * *

She'd sat down on one of the couches. Perched on the edge, looking like a fragile bird ready for flight at the first threat.

"I need a drink." She gestured imperiously at her manager who blanched, but obeyed. Clinking some bottles in the corner, he handed her a neat glass of amber liquid. It shook noticeably as he gave it to her. The shaking did not stop when she accepted it.

Afaitu returned to his chair; his careful words would have to be abandoned. She was in no state to hear anything he said. He had to hope that Rick's words were enough.

Taking a small envelope, he opened it, withdrawing the single sheet of paper.

"Mrs. Rodgers, your son wrote this and asked me to give it to you."

He handed it to her even as she harrumphed into her drink and cast a glare at her manager, who had taken a seat on the couch opposite hers. She did, however, take the paper and Afaitu found himself praying as she deigned to read the words.

He followed her eyes as she skimmed the words, registered the shock on her face, and the tears that started pouring from her eyes. She looked up after reading it a second time and opened her mouth, but no words carried forth. Her manager stood and moved to her side, pulling her into an embrace and deeper onto the couch at the same time.

"What is it Martha? What does it say?" he soothed, rocking her slightly. Afaitu now noticed a wedding ring on the man's left hand that he'd missed until now. Perhaps they were married? Either way, they seemed quite close.

She'd clutched the paper to her chest, a death grip on the fragile piece.

"He's alive. He's alive," was all she could say. It was all she needed to say. Afaitu slumped back in his chair. She knew the truth. They were saved.

* * *

She only sobbed for a few minutes; there was a strength in her that Afaitu admired, and once she'd recovered from the initial shock she dried her eyes and sat up, looking demanding and furious at the same time.

"Where is he? Why has he been gone so long? Why did he let me spend ten years—ten years!—believing him dead? Why now, for God's sake, why now?"

Afaitu bowed his head. He'd briefly read the message when Rick gave it to him. It begged her to listen to the man bearing it and mentioned a few items from their past that only she and her son would share knowledge of. It was meant to confirm he was alive, not to explain the whole mess. This was Afaitu's next job.

"I do not have to tell you again the story from ten years ago. The ship that left with six aboard, and the three that were later found. We were told how the others were all dead at sea. The wreck was never found and no trace of the ones lost ever found."

Both Martha and her manager nodded.

"I flew to Papeete as soon as I was informed," she said hoarsely. "I offered a reward for his body or the site of the wreck, but no one brought forward anything. The one survivor, Grollet was his name, told me he'd keep looking. I had to leave eventually, but came back several times. Grollet always met me at the airport with sad eyes. I knew each time, before he said anything, that my journey had been for naught. He was so kind to me, and finally I had to stop my trips. I was caught in a cycle of hopelessness, unable to move forward."

She clutched her manager's hand, taking strength from the man's presence.

"Grollet promised me he'd let me know if anything happened, and every year he sends me a lovely card to let me know he's still got my son on his mind." She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief her manager had given her earlier. "I believe he's become President of French Polynesia?"

Afaitu nodded, unable to trust any words he might say.

"I can see why. He was such a hero, the way he rescued those two other men. But I don't understand. He said my son was dead, yet I have a letter from Richard and you're sitting here telling me he is alive. Where has he been?"

"Ma'am, I can answer some of your questions. Your son's story, nonetheless, is his own; he has started writing it for me, and I have the initial chapters for you to read. This can wait for now, however, as I must explain the danger he is in and the urgency of this mission."

Both of them nodded, allowing him to continue.

"Three, almost four, months ago, a man was found drifting on a disintegrating little boat. He was injured, unresponsive, and near death from dehydration and starvation. The men of the ship that found him were able to stabilize him and brought him to Papeete. When he regained consciousness, he initially had no memory. However, a week later during an interview, he declared he was none other than Richard Rodgers."

Martha gasped, clasping her hand to her mouth. When she remained silent, he kept going.

"A scandal erupted immediately with the publication of the article. Within days, the man, now healthy enough to be discharged from the hospital, was arrested and charged with multiple offenses, including fraud. He pled guilty; he was given the name Jean Dupont, which is essentially John Doe in French. He had no papers, no passport, nothing that gave him an identity and he provided no other names to be used."

He paused, but the other two were still raptly paying attention. He wished briefly for something to drink, but the need to tell the story overrode his comfort.

"French Polynesia is quite limited in our ability to conduct investigations; his fingerprints were checked within the known criminals of Tahiti, but when they returned without a match, the matter was dropped. He had a very rapid trial; the government claimed it wanted to ensure no one else tried to falsely claim the large reward still waiting for information leading to your son. He said nothing in his defense, would not participate in the trial in any measurable fashion. He was quickly convicted; both in the courts and in the minds of the people. He was sentenced to life in prison and sent to the only facility in French Polynesia, Nuutania. It is a notorious institution, very overcrowded. It is there that I first met him, some two weeks ago. This man, this Jean Dupont, is in fact who he originally claimed to be. He is your son."

Martha gave a soft moan, hand clutched to her mouth. Afaitu waited a moment, as he could see she recognized his story and had something to say. His patience was rewarded a few seconds later when she gathered herself visibly back together and spoke.

"I saw a vague mention of this months ago when he was found. One of Monsieur Grollet's aides called me and said the man was a treasure seeker, looking for the reward. He said he had no resemblance to Richard." Tears were spilling down her cheeks again.

"How did you get involved, Mr. Tutomo?" the manager asked.

"I was approached by a man named Tamahere. He is one of the survivors of the wreck ten years ago."

A sharply indrawn breath told him Martha Rodgers recognized the name.

"Tamahere was living in seclusion on a more remote island, and by chance saw a picture of the prisoner, Dupont, and an article about the trial. He recognized the man immediately as his former shipmate, thought dead all these years. Fortunately, he realized the delicacy of the situation, and ultimately approached me for help. I was able to be named as Dupont's lawyer and have been gathering his story ever since."

"I don't understand. If this man is Richard, why would he plead guilty to charges that he is not Richard? It makes no sense! Why would Grollet's people tell me he is not my son? Why would he go to jail instead of insisting on the truth?"

"Mrs. Rodgers, that is a question that I can only partially answer. The government, Grollet in effect, desires your son's story never come to light. He is a threat to Grollet and the incredible lies he spun all those years ago. Rick has cooperated because there is more at stake than just his life."

"More?" the word was strangled. And oddly it came from Martha's manager. Husband?

"Yes, Rick is terrified he'll be killed unless he cooperates. He's been threatened. He did not survive these years alone. And if he dies, he cannot rescue her. It is his greatest fear."

The other two were now clutching each other, both equally affected. Afaitu was puzzled by the evident emotion in the other man, but if he was Martha's husband perhaps he was as anxious about Rick as she.

"Her? Who was with him all these years?" Martha finally asked. Curiously, she seemed to be the one supporting her manager as they waited for Afaitu to answer.

"Her name is Kate Beckett. She was a passenger…" he trailed off as the man collapsed, his head on his knees and great wracking sobs shuddering through his body as Martha patted his back in a vain attempt to comfort him.

"Oh, Jim. They're alive. After all these years, they're alive."

* * *

*50 degrees Farenheit for my fellow Americans

**Looped is a Broadway play that did indeed premiere on the date I mentioned. It is a story about Tallulah Bankhead, and starred Valerie Harper, who did receive a Tony nomination for her role. The Lyceum Theater is also as described. The information about the stage door comes from a website called stagescape dot net. I've added pics of the theater, it's stage entrance and a promotional poster for Looped to Tumblr.**


	21. Chapter 21

**This chapter is dedicated to caffinate-me. There is no greater compliment than having someone you look up to with admiration and respect for their skills in writing tell you that they like what you're doing. Author of some of the most phenomenal A/U works this fandom has ever seen, I am incredibly honored that this story has caught her interest. Thank you so much for your encouragement and kind words.**

**Several authors that I really admire have encouraged me over this little tale that we've embarked on, and I still pinch myself that I've written anything good enough to capture their imagination. Thank you all!**

* * *

April, 2010

Afaitu watched, uncomfortable, as the two older people cried. Joyous tears, to be sure—but why were they both so affected by his news of Kate Beckett being alive? He was confused, as they both seemed to know her somehow. Yet, Rick's story had made it clear that neither he nor Kate had known each other prior to meeting in Papeete. Confident he'd learn more once they calmed down, he simply waited.

It was nearly ten minutes and several more handkerchiefs before they were ready to talk.

"Mr. Tutomo, you must think us excessively maudlin," Martha remarked as she dried her eyes once more.

"Far from it, Mrs. Rodgers. You've thought your son dead for ten years, only to find he is not only alive, but in prison. I would have been shocked if you hadn't cried. Tears of happiness, I imagine."

"Yes, but there's something you don't know." She reached over and hugged her manager, Jim, again. "This is Katie Beckett's father."

Afaitu felt as though he'd been struck by a bolt of lightning in a South Pacific storm. He'd not planned on seeking out any of Kate's relatives, fearful they would rush to Tahiti and send an obvious signal to those in charge she was still alive. He closed his eyes and threw his head back in anguish; must all of their careful planning come undone so quickly?

Taking a minute to regroup, he opened his eyes to see the other two staring at him with concern.

"You've mentioned Richard several times, but there has been no mention of Katie. Have you spoken to her? Where is she? Why did the news not mention her on the raft as well?" Jim Beckett's interrogation was pointed. He wanted answers.

"She was not with him."

"Not with him," gasped Martha. She clutched her latest handkerchief to her lips. "Where is she?"

"Only Rick knows. Well, he doesn't know exactly. He's confident he can find it again." He was confusing them more. It was confusing to him.

"Look, I've met with Rick twice at the prison. Lawyers are granted special dispensation to see their clients, but even that is limited. I had him start telling me his story on my initial visit; he typed out two chapters. However, there was no way we'd finish that way. So, since he has nothing else to do, I have him writing it out on paper. I collect it and Tamahere types it into the laptop and uploads it to a shared file."

"How does this help us find Katie? When did he last see her? Why can't we start searching without him?" Her father was understandably upset.

"Sir, please, I can assure you the story answers some of those very questions. Please, do you think you could read what we have so far and then we can talk about what we do and don't know? It will be much easier if you understand as much about their beginning as I."

Jim stared at him. The man was nothing if not intense, but he finally relented.

"Fine, we'll read the story. But, please, tell me when he last saw Katie."

Afaitu swallowed. This would be distressing no matter how he phrased it. Deciding on the direct approach, he told the truth. "He told me it was about four months ago."

Jim closed his eyes; it was more than he'd ever allowed himself to hope, but anything could have happened since she'd last been seen. Not knowing what they had been doing, _where_ they had been. It was frustrating.

"May I start reading?" Martha asked. She was dying to know more about her son.

"Yes, though it is on a file on my laptop. Do you want to read together, or could I print it off somewhere?"

"Why not just email it to me? I can read it on my laptop or my phone."

Afaitu smiled wanly at the other man. "It is encrypted. I have spent a lot of time and effort in keeping this story safe, and I'm not willing to lower my standards now that we are so close to realizing success."

"You're right; I don't understand this need for security, but I assume I will after I read what you have here?"

Afaitu nodded at the man. Jim then led him to an office and helped him print off two copies of the story. Afaitu stressed the need to shred the copies afterwards, though Jim seemed a bit doubtful about this level of paranoia.

"Mr. Tutomo, before we begin, I'd like to enquire as to where you are staying," Martha asked when they returned.

"Mrs. Rodgers, please, call me Afaitu. In the South Pacific we are rarely so formal, and I am more comfortable with the use of my first name."

"Yes, darling. Please call me Martha. And this is Jim, as you know. He has been my manager for many years now."

Afaitu told them his hotel name. Martha sent him to the kitchen, where an assistant had prepared a light repast. He was starving, having skipped dinner to watch the stage door. While he ate, the others read. He rejoined them in the parlor and settled into his chair once more. It was going to be a long night, but for the first time since he'd arrived he felt hopeful. He would have to manage Jim's desire to find his daughter, but the man had a razor sharp mind. Surely he would see the folly of haste?

* * *

Martha was a vocal reader. He could tell where she was based on her reactions to the story. Jim read with a stoic face. He was all lawyer, reading each page rapidly, but thoroughly. He finished well before Martha and excused himself from the room.

When he returned twenty minutes later, Martha had finished.

"Did you call Celeste?" she asked Jim.

"Yes. I have a feeling I'm going to be here for a while. Didn't want her to worry."

"Celeste is his wife," Martha explained to Afaitu. "She was my assistant for years, until Jim swept her away from me." She smiled at her friend, teasing him gently. Theirs seemed to be a very comfortable friendship.

Afaitu was concerned. The fewer people who knew, the safer they were. His worry must have been evident, as Jim sighed deeply as he sat down again.

"I didn't tell her why. How do you explain something like this over the phone? But she knew I was upset. I'll need to tell her something. She's my wife. She deserves to know."

"You understand the danger if they find her first?" Afaitu asked. He was certain that Jim wished no harm to come to his daughter, inadvertent as it might be, but Jim didn't know Grollet, or the desperation that Kate's appearance would induce.

"I think so. What do you think they'd do? If they found her?"

Afaitu gave him an earnest look. He would hold nothing back; it was the least he could do after nearly messing this whole journey up beyond repair.

"They will not hesitate to kill her."

Martha gasped, "Surely not. What on earth do you mean by that?"

"Mrs. Rodgers…Martha…, Henri Grollet became what he is solely due to the lies he told about what happened ten years ago. As you've read, he purposefully lied to Tamahere, perhaps Tane as well, about your son and your daughter," he glanced at Jim, including him in the conversation. He _had_ to transfer the desperation Rick exuded across to the two of them.

"Grollet was celebrated, a national hero. You lauded him yourself, Martha, just an hour or two ago. He entered politics, and benefited from a scandal involving the ruling party at that time. He came across as an honest man, wanting to eliminate corruption—everything the other party was not. The perception of his character was entirely taken from the rescue of the castaways, in which he painted himself as the hero. Now, he is President of French Polynesia. The power, the wealth that comes with such a position is unimaginable. Do you really doubt he would hesitate to employ any means necessary to maintain it? I hope for your children's sake that you harbor no hesitation on this point. We must move with extreme caution. Kate's life depends on it. Rick's as well."

Jim and Martha stared at him for a minute, then they both nodded.

"Perhaps it is best if we all get some sleep? It will give you time to accept the news, what has happened. Do you have any free time tomorrow, or should I say later today?" It was already past midnight. They were all emotionally and physically exhausted.

"The theater is closed tomorrow, it is our day off. Could we meet here again, say at ten a.m.?" Martha asked.

Jim nodded curtly and Afaitu started gathering his things.

"Afaitu, I'll have my assistant call a cab for you."

"Martha, there's no need. I'll take him. It's not far out of my way."

"Are you sure, Jim?"

"Yes."

The two men made their goodbyes, and Afaitu soon found himself in the midst of another silent car ride. Jim was agitated, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and muttering to himself when other drivers did things he thought they shouldn't.

Afaitu was about to ask what was bothering the other man, when Jim's dam suddenly burst.

"You weren't planning on telling me, were you? About Katie. If I hadn't been with Martha, I wouldn't know."

Taking a steadying breath, Afaitu admitted the truth. "No."

"Why not? My daughter wasn't famous, so she doesn't deserve the same treatment?" he snapped.

"Certainly not, sir! Richard Castle is a name known in the islands mainly as the pen name of a man called Richard Rodgers, who disappeared in a shipwreck. He's not famous as an author to most people. They know the name Kate Beckett nearly as well."

"Then why? Why would you tell Martha and not me?"

"First of all, the last Rick knew of you was what Kate knew of you. An alcoholic, unable to deal with the murder of his wife. Unable to support his teenage daughter when she needed him."

Jim huffed. "You certainly don't pull any punches, do you?" He was silent for a few seconds before continuing in a less aggrieved voice. "That was long ago. I changed. Martha is responsible for much of that. She wouldn't let me drink myself to death. We met because our two kids had died together, and she ended up saving me."

"Jim, if you could meet Rick, you'd understand. He doesn't care what happens to him. His singular focus in life is finding your daughter. He accepted a life sentence in a horrific prison in order to protect her. He nearly wouldn't trust in me; the only reason I think he did was because I happen to be the great nephew of his beloved captain, Anapa."

"So, why not try to find me and discover if I was still an alcoholic? I'd understand avoiding me if I was still in the cups, but I'm not. I'm a lawyer too, dammit. I can help. I want to help. She's my daughter, after all. Why would you not want me to assist in any way I can?"

Afaitu looked out the window. Jim had pulled the car over to a curb while he argued with him. Perhaps for the best. They couldn't afford a wreck or injuries at this time. When he spoke, the anguish in his voice was clear, even to a man who only wanted to hear that he could be involved in the search for his child.

"I've agonized for days and nights over what kind of plan would keep them both safe. Hours of sleepless nights. Gut-wrenching worry during the days. The responsibility for both of them has weighed heavily on me. I'd like nothing more to share it."

"But?"

"But the only solution I could think of is quite delicate. They will be suspicious of everything. They were following Tamahere for weeks after he showed up on Papeete. If they have any idea she is alive, with Grollet's resources, I have no doubt he will find her. We _must_ do it first."

"Why can't Richard just give us a general idea? We could start looking, quietly."

Afaitu slapped his legs with his hands, startling Jim out of his tunnel-like focus on Katie. "He _has_ no idea! The weeks adrift, starving, dehydrated. Head injury. Unconscious when he was found. Then had amnesia for a week after he woke up. Try as he might, he simply does not know where they were. He is hoping he'll recognize it when he sees it."

"Why do you think Grollet would find her then? They must have been in quite a remote place for all this time to pass without discovery."

"I harbor a suspicion that Grollet knows the basic directions; something Rick does not. Perhaps Tane was a better navigator than everyone thought, or they were lucky. Tamahere can't remember, though he too has racked his brain trying to do so. Sick when he was found, then spent a few years pickling himself in alcohol like you did. Too much time passed now for him to remember any details. I could be wrong that Grollet knows anything; I have no proof. But, I'm not willing to risk it either. Wouldn't think you'd be willing, either."

Jim shook his head, frustrated. "No. I wouldn't. But how does Richard find her from a prison cell?"

"Ah, that is where my not so brilliant plan begins. We must free him, but make Grollet believe he's been alone this whole time. Rick was unconscious when Grollet hit him in the head. He could not know what Grollet did to him without the knowledge Kate provided later."

Jim nodded. "Yes, according to what he wrote he truly did think he was simply knocked out and abandoned when he came to in that bathroom."

"Yes, exactly. We just leave out the part where he found Kate. He was in a small bathroom, easily overlooked by any search, so that would not be a damning fact."

"That's true. I'm sure it was chaotic."

"He could claim he simply awoke and stumbled to the bow, to find the life boat missing. Confused, head splitting, he grabbed a life preserver. Perhaps he was tossed off the ship, perhaps he tried to jump off and swim. Then he woke up on an island, alone, and survived for years, again alone, until a nearly ill-fated attempt to reach civilization again."

"That could work, I suppose. It's simple, and close enough to the truth. So, how do you get him released?"

"With Martha's help. I was planning on taking her to Tahiti with me, going straight to Nuutania from the prison and demanding an audience with my client. I was hoping to bring some press too, so when she declares him to be her son there is a means to publicize the fact. They'll have no choice but to release him."

"Is Martha Rodgers that influential?"

Afaitu smiled. "Polynesians may not read many mystery novels written in English, but we do like movies. American or otherwise. Plus, she was quite sympathetic when she was in the islands looking for her son. People do not forget tragedies such as this one."

"And after he's released?"

"That will be the role of a lifetime for Rick. He must convince Grollet that Kate is as long dead to him as she is to the rest of the world. While we initiate a secret search for her. I suspect Grollet will milk the publicity of a famous author being found alive for all that it's worth. He, like all politicians, has a marked ability to make silk purses out of sow's ears, no?"

"And once we find her?"

"Ah, then we must use some of the Richard Castle or Martha Rodgers fortune to move as swiftly as a bee. We will snatch her out of the shark's open jaw and you'll have your daughter back."

"So you were going to keep this from me to prevent any chance of my tipping them off?"

Afaitu nodded. "Yes. Your first instinct, natural as it is, was to rush to Tahiti and start searching. They would know in an instant who you are. It's troublesome enough that you're Martha's manager, though I had not discovered that when I did my research on her. They are likely unaware of your involvement in Martha's life, but I'm sure it would raise hackles if they did."

"And this is why you didn't want me to tell my wife, Celeste?"

"Yes. The more people who know a secret plan, the less secret it becomes."

Jim shifted the car back into motion, pulling away from the curb.

"I understand now your hesitations. I appreciate it, the care you are attempting, and all for my daughter. I _will_ tell my wife, however." He halted Afaitu's protest with a sharp gesture of his right hand. "I cannot keep this from her. What kind of husband would I be? You should know, though, that she is above reproach."

Afaitu merely raised his eyebrows at such a confident statement.

"She was Martha's personal assistant for several years, as Martha told you. However, what she did not say, was that after she left her employment we started a management company together. We represent some of the biggest stars in Hollywood and Broadway. My wife is well aware of the need for confidentiality when millions are at stake. She is a remarkable negotiator. With the life of my daughter—well, she will be silent. As will I. We _will_ stay away until you let us know we can help."

Afaitu simply nodded. What else could he do? The description of Celeste Beckett did make him feel better. He hoped he could convince Rick that they would be discreet when he told him of this particular chain of events. He was certain his client would not be pleased.

"Tell me again how you've set up the communication between yourself and Tamahere."

Afaitu recounted the measures they'd taken, elaborating when prompted by Jim. The man knew his way around encrypted files. Afaitu supposed it was an important part of his job, now that he knew exactly what he did for a living.

They agreed to add Jim to the shared account after he downloaded the encryption software they'd chosen. He already used a proxy program on occasion, so that wasn't necessary to add. Afaitu was grateful that Jim was committed to helping, even from afar. And he was grateful he'd be helping _from_ afar. The disaster he'd envisioned of Jim rushing to Tahiti had been averted, and now they had the resources of another sharp mind on their side.

* * *

Afaitu took a cab to Martha's residence, arriving just before ten. Jim wasn't there yet, so he took the opportunity to discuss his nascent plan with her, since Jim was already aware of it.

She was silent after he finished. Nervous that she opposed the plan, he asked her thoughts.

"I guess I was thinking about the irony of using my celebrity to free my son from prison."

"I'm at a loss. What do you mean?"

She glanced up at him, still lost in thoughts of the past.

"When he disappeared he had written numerous best sellers. He was famous, celebrated both for his books and his playboy life style. Oh, we didn't agree on how he lived his life all the time, but he had really made it and I thought he deserved to enjoy the fruits of his success."

She paused, smiled tightly. "I was an actress, had been most of his life. But a single mother can't take just any role, and we had struggled. Most of the time there was just enough to get by on. Sometimes not quite enough. But, oh, how I loved that boy. So clever. Such an imagination."

"Life sounds like it was challenging for the two of you."

"At times. Then he grew up and far exceeded my small celebrity. I was _so_ proud of him. I worried about the excesses of fame and a twenty something year old, but I thought he had a good head on his shoulders, under the giant ego he developed with the success of each book."

She looked at him then, pain in her eyes. "Then one day he left it all. It got to be too much, scared him. He was losing himself. I thought he'd leave for a bit, come back more mature and settle down. But he loved working on that boat so much. I didn't understand it, but I was in a complicated marriage and as long as he was clean and sober I decided not to worry too much about it all."

"Then he disappeared."

"No! That's where you're wrong. Then he _died_. The pain…I'd never experienced anything like it. Like I was drowning while on dry land. My marriage fell apart; I didn't care. I wasn't working. I met Jim; sought him out after I learned his daughter was from New York too. I found him, drunk. He was someone to take care of, so I did. Got him straightened out. Not an easy task. He was suicidal. He'd lost Johanna and Katie within a year of each other. I wasn't sure he'd ever come around. But he did, after a long struggle."

Afaitu was frozen. He'd not considered what Jim had gone through from that perspective before. His wife, his only child. It was unfathomable.

"It's because of Richard that I am what I am today, you know."

Afaitu shook his head. He had no idea what she meant.

"His death. Once I finally decided to return to acting, I suddenly was able to tap the emotional depth that his death had shown me existed within. I threw myself into it, and soon people noticed. I won the Tony, then got the film offers. I chose roles where I could portray some of that depth, and those roles in turn were naturally in serious, heavy films. It suited my new mood perfectly, and that led directly to the Academy Awards. All because my son was dead. I would have traded it all to have him back. Still would."

"I didn't know."

"No one knows, except perhaps for Jim and Celeste. I don't share my pain with strangers. My success allows me to skip the usual cattle calls that most celebrities feel the need to attend, in the name of publicity. I could care less about being seen. I suppose it lends a mystery to me that hasn't hurt my fame, either."

"But now you know he's alive. That he'll be ok."

"Will he be ok, Afaitu? You've seen him. Is he unscathed after years of being so isolated? Now imprisoned? I can't picture him now. I only see the young man who disappeared so long ago."

"Martha, he is probably the most focused person I've ever met. I don't know if he'll be ok, long term. I do know he _won't_ be ok if we don't find Kate and rescue her. It's clear they love each other, though in what he's written so far they are not involved. But he thinks of nothing else. No one else. The best way to help him is to do everything we can to find her."

"Then that is what we'll do."

* * *

Two days later, Afaitu returned as per his original itinerary. He'd planned on Martha coming with him, but Jim, Celeste and Martha convinced him that flying into Papeete on the same flight as Richard Castle's mother was bound to catch the wrong kind of attention at best; at worst possibly lead to detainment in the airport, which would destroy their plans.

The new plan was to have Martha follow four days later. This allowed her to finish the play, which had always been scheduled to end its run on Broadway on April 11th. This would result in fewer ruffled feathers, though the producers would be furious that she wouldn't be available for publicity afterwards, as well as for Tony nominee interviews. Her son came first, but she couldn't reveal her reasons behind her leaving abruptly.

An added benefit for Afaitu was that he could make his little preparations for her arrival and reunification with her son in advance of her arrival. He needed to do some reconnaissance, make sure there were reasonable chances of success with the plan.

He'd also be able to meet with Rick, tell him how things had worked out. Gather the newest chapters from him. The plan was coalescing. Afaitu just hoped the final product would be as successful as the hopes of the people involved. And the love of the two people at the center of it all.

* * *

**Looped did indeed close on April 11****th****, 2010, and Valerie Harper was nominated for the Tony Award: Best Performance by a Leading Actress in a Play. She lost, ultimately, to Viola Davis for her role in Fences.**


	22. Chapter 22

**This chapter is dedicated to fanficjunkie12. Long a supporter, she laughs at my jokes on twitter and always has a positive viewpoint. Thanks for all of the encouragement and for laughing when no one else was.**

* * *

April, 2010

"Dupont! Your lawyer is here."

Finally. Afaitu had been gone for longer than expected, and Rick had started to worry that something had gone wrong. He'd been anxious, not sure what to do if Afaitu's plan failed. He had to get to Kate. The terror for her fate drove him to push himself hard. Lack of sleep was beginning to take a toll.

The guards had paid little attention to him after Salesi joined forces with him. However, to be safe, Salesi kept the finished papers under his mattress—the bottom bunk, of course. Sleeping beneath his bulk would have made Rick claustrophobic. If the guards paid less attention to Rick, then they paid no attention to Salesi. Rick could see that nearly all were scared shitless of the gentle giant. He didn't blame them. Salesi could have snapped any of the guards in two without batting an eye, had he been so inclined.

With all of the uninterrupted time that the safety of his new friend brought him, Rick had been able to write rapidly. It made him sad, remembering those early days with Kate; not knowing now if she were safe. Yet, he was determined to do anything to help her, and right now his only possible action was to write their shared history. Even if something happened to him before he was freed, at least the story he was writing might serve to tell what had occurred all those years ago. Their true story. Their history would be acknowledged. Their love proclaimed.

Hurried along the corridor by an impatient guard, having just had time enough to grab his finished chapters, he was nearly shoved into the room with his lawyer. Afaitu looked wan. Worried.

"What's the matter?"

The other man waved a hand, dismissing his concern. "Long flight. Time change. Nearly froze my toes off in that concrete jungle you call home. Take your pick."

"Did it all go ok? Did you find my mother? Is she here?" He looked around eagerly, as if she could have been hidden in the same room, waiting to surprise him in some bizarre twist on their long lost reunion.

"She'll be coming in a few days. We wanted to make sure everything was ok here, and thought it would be suspicious for her to show up on the same flight as me, a flight from the States."

Rick sat, heavily. It was a reasonable precaution; however, all he saw was more delay in finding Kate. He knew he was being ridiculous: they must not rush, not at such critical junctures. But the reasonable side of him had to physically clamp himself in his chair to prevent the insanely-worried-Rick from doing something incredibly stupid, like grabbing a guard for hostage or running for an opened door.

Once he had control, he realized with a start that Afaitu had been quiet the whole time. Too quiet. Narrowing his eyes, he stared at the other man with more attention. Something was bothering him. Had there been an issue? Was his mother really coming?

"Did she believe you?"

The lawyer gave a half smile, lost in thought for a moment. "It took a bit of time to finally talk to her. She did not want to read your note, did not want to listen. Your 'death' affected her deeply and she did not want to put any credence into a crackpot story that you were alive. But we did convince her to read the note, eventually. And as soon as she did, she knew you were alive."

Rick nodded, trying to picture the scene. Suddenly he looked up, glaring at Afaitu. "We? Who is _WE_?"

The other man had the good grace to look ashamed. And guilty. "Her manager. He's been with her for years. If it hadn't been for his personal intervention, I would never have gotten close enough to give her the note, let alone get her to read it."

Rick jumped up, pacing the room in agitation.

"Dammit, _another_ person involved. We talked about this! Is he trustworthy?" Rick was incensed. Them more people involved, the less likely the plan would work. Too many lips, tongues wagging. He felt any semblance of control he'd had over the situation disintegrating.

"Yes. He will not say anything."

"How can you be so sure of that? There's no guarantee, even if he's been with mother for '_many_' years. How could you take this risk?"

"He knows the stakes."

"_Knows_ the stakes?! He has _no_ idea. How _can_ he? He's not personally involved, he's just her manager. She didn't even really _have_ a manager when I last saw her. How dare you risk our plan, risk Kate!" He'd jumped up, pacing with agitation causing his steps to waver, stumbling all over the small room.

"Rick, you don't understand. He does know the stakes. His name is…his name is Jim Beckett."

That stopped him cold.

"WHAT? Jim Beckett as in Kate's father? Is my mother's manager?"

"Yes, apparently they me…"

"He's an ALCOHOLIC. My mother's manager is a drunk, and you _trusted_ him? What is wrong with you? How the hell did this happen?"

"He's not a drunk, at least anymore."

"After Johanna Beckett died, Jim crawled in a bottle. Kate needed him, and he essentially left her an orphan. He's a.."

Afaitu held up a hand, stopping Rick's tirade for a moment. "Listen, I do not question what happened when Kate's mother died. I have no doubt you know all about it from Kate's perspective."

Rick nodded; it was one of the events that had hurt Kate the most, after the death of her mother.

"But it was ten years ago, Rick. The man lost his wife, lost his life, then lost his daughter. In less than a year. Your mother helped get him sober. They bonded over the loss of their children; you were lost together, and that shared loss brought them together. Let me tell you about them."

Sighing, Rick sat down with a thud. He knew a lot could happen in ten years. Ten years on an island, isolated, had left him stuck in the past while the rest of the world moved forward. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

Afaitu explained the little he knew about their relationship. Rick calmed down as Afaitu recounted his tale and explained all that had happened in New York. Eventually, he even conceded that the direction Afaitu had taken was probably their only option. They both relaxed, back in synch once again. Rick decided to steer the conversation into safer territory. Rehashing what might have happened was a recipe for a larger ulcer than the one he probably had already.

"So you really hated New York, huh?" Rick chuckled. He could picture Afaitu's discomfort with his hometown. It was a complete one eighty from island life. "Those were probably the coldest temperatures you've ever experienced."

Afaitu shuddered. "I didn't think I'd make it back with all my toes. No, I didn't care for the city. Too many people, too much concrete for this island boy. I didn't have time for any sight-seeing, obviously, though I was hoping to at least visit the 9/11 site."

"Nine…eleven? Is that a store? Like 7-Eleven?" Rick joked. 7-Eleven was a gas and convenience store chain, and he thought it quite strange that was the one thing Afaitu wanted to visit. One look at Afaitu's face sobered him immediately.

"You don't know, do you?" the lawyer mused. "No, you couldn't. You disappeared before it happened, so there's no way you'd know. Dear God, there is so much you've missed."

"What are you talking about?"

Afaitu pinned him in place with an intense, sad look. "Rick, believe me when I say I wish I had time to discuss it with you. Perhaps there will be time after we free you. But for now, you must remain in ignorance while we focus on Kate."

Rick stared at him in concern. Obviously something significant had happened, and he was curious what would engender such a reaction from the normally unflappable lawyer. But, Kate superseded everything in his life. It was easy to agree to put off learning of the world of 2010 in order to concentrate on finding his love.

After giving Afaitu his chapters and explaining how Salesi had joined forces with him, the two men parted. They knew the next time they saw each other would be a true test of the whole plan: the day Martha Rodgers resurrected Richard Rodgers from the dead.

* * *

Martha settled in her seat, anxious to begin the long flight and terrified of what would happen when she did arrive. So many things could go wrong. But on the other end of this airplane, her son…her _son_…was waiting.

It was still hard to believe. Part of her thought perhaps this was all an elaborate, ill-natured prank. Or an attempt by a rival theater to destroy the box office that _Looped_ had generated. Ten years. Gone. How had she not known? Not felt that he was alive, somewhere out there trying to get back to her?

She'd declared him dead, after seven years had passed with no trace. She'd been forced to, really. His large estate had been in limbo, and the state required a settlement. She hadn't wanted to; it felt so final, and without a body it seemed wrong. But there'd been no choice. Jim had declared Katie dead through the same legal means on the exact same day that Martha had declared Richard dead. The symmetry of their actions had seemed fitting at the time; both children lost together, their loss responsible for the joining of Martha and Jim. If only they'd known.

His book sales had gone through the roof after his disappearance was noted in American papers. No one in the States, including her, had even known anything was amiss until the life boat with the three survivors had been found. It had been near Christmas when the first whisperings were heard; a tragedy in the South Pacific with New York overtones. That's when Henri Grollet had started spreading his lies. Which she'd believed; everyone had.

And the Richard Castle public clamored for his books. His first—and last—Derrick Storm book had been rushed to publication, smashing records right and left. Black Pawn had issued new printings for all of Richard's books, even the early ones that hadn't sold as well. Limited edition prints, special collections; it was all about Richard and the fact that he was dead. A man taken in his prime. The mawkish public snapped the story up, along with his books, and millions poured in. He was better known in death than he had been in life.

The fact that he'd disappeared with a beautiful American tourist wasn't missed, either. A woman also declared dead by Grollet. And somehow the press had figured out that Katie Beckett had been in French Polynesia to escape memories of a mother murdered in a filthy New York alley. Coupled with unflattering pictures of a drunken Jim raging at reporters from his porch, the portrayal of Katie as a depressed but tragic figure was splashed across the city. The more disreputable rags suggested she was better off dead than mired in the hellish life that had descended onto her shoulders that January night almost one year earlier. The publicity had glared white and hot onto Johanna Beckett's death, raising questions and bringing answers that would never have been asked or answered had her daughter not died with such public attention.

Martha's initial discovery of her son's death had sent her haring to Tahiti immediately. As if her presence would help uncover valuable evidence that would be lost without her. It hadn't. Fruitless subsequent trips to the country had soon given way to despair. She'd sought out Jim on her own accord. He was the only living person who might understand her loss. She'd not been prepared for the wreck of a man that she'd found, and once she had a better understanding of his twin tragedies she'd vowed to help him.

Somehow, she'd gotten him into treatment. And by some miracle, he'd fought for sobriety. Martha wasn't sure in his place she'd been able to overcome the grief that losing both his wife and only child had brought him. But overcome it he had, and once out of treatment he'd been jobless. Uninterested in returning to the law, which reminded him too pointedly of his Johanna, he'd been at loose ends. She'd let him start helping her out, negotiating her contracts and such. As her career took off, his advice became invaluable, and soon he'd become her manager. It was a relationship that had benefitted the both of them, unquestionably. She viewed him as a brother, and her trust in him was absolute.

She knew the last week had been hard on him; it'd been an unrelenting strain on her, so he must feel even more pressure. Martha _knew_ her son was alive. People had seen him; he had a location, even if it was a prison. Katie was still unaccounted for, other than Richard's reassurances of having seen her alive four months ago. Jim was in agony, but Martha knew Celeste would be a rock for him and that neither would risk any harm coming to the long lost pair.

Jim was now tasked with researching the issues that would arise once Richard was declared to be alive. Martha and Celeste both wanted him busy so he wouldn't dwell as much on Katie, though they knew there was little else he would think about. People rarely returned from the dead, but they would have to face this very problem soon. Richard's sole beneficiary had been Martha, which simplified things somewhat, but there would be questions regarding taxes, his royalties and the control of his books. Martha had been pretty lax on that front, not really caring how Black Pawn handled things on their end. Richard had been dead; she hadn't needed any of the money. It just hadn't been a priority.

Richard's former book agent and publisher were both still around. She idly wondered how Gina and Paula would react to the news of his being found alive, as the plane taxied down the runway and they were finally airborne. Both women had a flair for taking advantage of a situation. Martha was confident they'd be on a plane to Papeete the moment they heard the news and saw the press. It would be yet another ball for Richard and her to juggle, but she was certain they could handle it.

Ten minutes later, the all clear came to use electronic devices. Martha removed her laptop from its bag and powered it up. She would spend the flight reading the next chapters Richard had written, and that Tamahere had spent hour upon hour typing up for the rest to share. She was curious to learn more of his experience. And of his relationship to Katie, who so far seemed less than interested in him. Martha knew Katie was mourning her mother; the date in the story was approaching January 9th and the first anniversary of Johanna's murder. However, Richard had no idea. She just hoped her bumbling son didn't completely make a fool of himself while trying to comfort Katie during her profound grief.

* * *

December, 1999

It was almost Christmas. Rick knew this only because of his calendar. The weather was still hot, humid and decidedly non-Yule like. At least to someone from the northern hemisphere.

He was worried about Kate; she was withdrawing from him. He had no idea what the issue was, or how to fix it. Every day she woke up with worry lines already creasing her beautiful face. He never saw any smiles from her any more. He'd try throughout the day to get her to laugh, resorting to increasingly ridiculous hyperbole in an attempt to amuse her. More often than not, it just resulted in an eye roll or a huff.

The problem wasn't him. At least he was pretty sure it wasn't him. Surely if it was him, she wouldn't spend so much time in his presence. Though, as the only two residents on a deserted island, she didn't have much choice. But she didn't seek solitude—at least all of the time. Their jobs and chores often separated them; the business of trying to stay alive and build something for a future took precedence, even over the blackness surrounding Kate Beckett.

She did her work, no fault there. It was just that she did it without any sense of joy or satisfaction. Nothing seemed to capture her interest; even little things like the beauty of a flower, the perfect wash of colors at a sunset, or the excitement of a large fish Rick accidentally caught while hauling more bamboo to Pereora. It was like she was living within a hard shell that allowed her to interact with the outside world when she chose, but didn't allow any of the outside world to touch her. A crustacean shielded by a perfect shield of calcium carbonate.

He knew she cried when she was alone; the evidence of red, swollen eyes all he needed. She slept restlessly, tossing and turning violently. Not unusual for her to wake him with a scream. He never mentioned the tears or the nightmares; he hoped giving her space, giving her time would eventually lead him back to her. That plan didn't seem to be working well so far.

They'd made quite a bit of progress in terms of living more comfortably. He'd spent a good five days building a large pergola that covered the kitchen area. It was big enough to cover a space that he hoped would contain a true table and chairs, eventually. He didn't take the time to completely thatch the roof; they just needed some shade. He would thatch the roof over the fire pit later, when he had more time. Kate didn't say much about it; she said very little these days. But she had given him a small, tight smile when he finished. That sign of appreciation, tiny as it was, had lifted his spirits for days.

The next task had been to finish separating the fibers from all the leaves Kate had been curing. Not all were ready, but the first batch was done and he was eager to show her what to do so they could start making all the rope they'd need to build a strong house. He'd spent a whole day with her, showing her what to do, and now each night they spent at least half an hour twisting the fibers into twine.

Rick decided to try his hand at making some simple oil lamps next, with the candlenuts. He'd spent days gathering a large quantity of the nuts, drying them in the hot sun. Simply stringing a few together and lighting one end gave them some light, though it was fairly dim.

He found a flat rock with a groove in it and used one of their chisels to deepen the groove and extend it to the edge. He then placed an empty water bottle underneath the groove. A handful of candlenuts were then crushed by a placing several heavy rocks on top of them. Any expressed oil ran into the groove and dripped into the bottle. This was a low yield process, but it did garner him a bottle full of oil after about fifteen separate pressings.

Ready for the next step, Rick took some large, empty sea shells and started experimenting with different wick material. The best ended up being made from a combination of dried wild grasses and some coconut fiber. He made a whole stockpile of them once he hit upon the best material, but didn't show Kate any of the fruits of his labor. He was saving it for Christmas. Not that she seemed to care about anything he was doing these days.

* * *

Kate woke, still exhausted after another restless night. Her body ached, sore from her daily labors and from carrying the despair that only increased every day. Sixteen days. She knew the number as soon as she opened her eyes. Sixteen days until her mother had been gone for a full year. Every sunrise that ticked the number lower mocked her. A bright burning disk in the sky, spotlighting her when all she wanted to do was hide from it. It wouldn't let her.

She'd tried, for a while, to live in the moment. Enjoy what her life had become. Take joy in the small things that surrounded her. But the miasma of grief started crawling back up her body after she'd tried to discard it. Within a week of their trip to the outer part of the island, it had settled back into place; it now enveloped her completely. No part of her waking moments was spent without thinking of her mother: her love for her, her murder, the piercing grief when she'd been told of her death. Most nights were consumed with the same. She dreamt of shadowy figures and stabbing knives. Wooden coffins and stone markers. She wasn't sure she'd ever sleep through the night again.

She did her tasks on autopilot. She knew Rick was worried about her. He tried to cheer her up; told her ridiculous stories and went out of his way to do little things to get her to smile. There were times when she wanted to confide in him; let him help her carry the burden for a while. Carry _her_. But she was scared to share her secrets. She didn't want to let him in to the private grief that gripped her. If she shared such a personal piece of her life, what would that make him to her?

He'd been a stranger, initially. One she hadn't even liked. Then he was a savior, rescuing her from Grollet's imprisonment and ultimately from the crippled boat. He'd become a friend here on the island, working with her to survive. Showing her how to live in the South Pacific. Now, she thought he might be a lifeline, rescuing her from drowning in the black pool of despair she'd fallen into. If she'd let him.

* * *

She was making her way to the kitchen, planning to start her day with a small breakfast, then jumping into the never ending labor that marked her life now. She hadn't seen Rick, though that wasn't always unusual. He sometimes got an early start to avoid the heat of the day.

Wrapped up in her own thoughts, she didn't notice the fire at first. They usually ate breakfast cold: some bananas or other fruit. Too much effort to light a fire that they didn't really need. Yet here was one crackling away, and had been for some time judging by the well burnt logs and coals. Their largest pot bubbled to one side, full of breadfruit.

Staring at the scene without comprehension, she missed Rick walking towards her, a dead chicken dangling from one hand.

"Kate, you're up!" he exclaimed happily.

Seeing what he was carrying increased her bewilderment. They hadn't killed a chicken since their arrival on the island, using them instead for eggs.

"What are you doing, Rick?" It was all so surprising, she couldn't help but speak. He seemed gratified with her interest.

"Thought we deserved a treat for such a special day. Today, for your dining pleasure, we'll have a nice seafood and breadfruit stew for starters, followed by a roast chicken with a taro leaf side. Feast fit for a king and queen."

Special day? What was he talking about? The one month anniversary of the shipwreck was still a few days away, with the month anniversary of their time on the island a few days after that. Ignorant of her confusion, Rick prattled on.

"Everything should be ready for a nice lunch. We can eat, then I have some presents for you. I thought we might take a little canoe trip around the lake, enjoy the sights of the island. Maybe a long swim. But there's no agenda. Whatever we want to do today. It's a day to spend together and celebrate."

She tried to process what he was saying, but it made no sense. Celebrate? Presents?

"Have you been out in the sun too long?"

His turn to look puzzled. "What do you mean? The sun's only been up for about an hour now."

"Rick, what are you talking about? What are you celebrating?"

"Haven't you looked at the calendar?"

Hadn't she looked? She didn't need to look. It was sixteen days.

"It's December twenty fifth. Merry Christmas, Kate!"

The eager, puppy dog expression on his face overwhelmed her. He'd planned this all for her, for them together. She hadn't even been thinking about the holiday. She suddenly noticed for the first time that he'd woven a large vine with flowers and festooned it around the pergola. There was a bamboo lattice that he'd fashioned into a conical shape in one corner, decorated with pretty shells and more flowers. A few rough packages wrapped in ti leaves tied with twine sat next to it. Her mouth gaped open as she took in all the work he'd done, before she burst into tears and ran towards the beach.

She was sobbing uncontrollably next to the water when she felt his warm presence next to her a few minutes later. A tentative touch on her shoulder was all the invitation she needed before she turned and found herself once again crying on Rick's broad chest. He hugged her to him tightly, making her feel safe but at the same time guiltier. He'd done so much for her, and she'd essentially ignored him, too caught up in the grief of her mother's death to pay attention to anyone else.

"Shh, shh, Kate. It's ok."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Rick."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have surprised you like that."

That made her cry harder.

"Kate, I know something is bothering you. You're so sad all the time. Did I do or say something that made you mad?"

She shook her head no, unable to speak while crying so hard. A few minutes later, as her tears lessened, he tried again.

"Kate, I know whatever it is must be really hard to deal with. I just want you to know you can trust me. I want to help."

She considered his words, the sincerity in his voice. He'd done so much for her. And his actions today showed how deeply he cared. Kate Beckett had lost a great deal in her life: her mother forever, her father from reality. Her place at the academy, her dreams of revenge on those who killed without thought for those left behind. She was stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere. No one knew she was alive. No one in the outside world probably cared. But here, in Rick's arms, she realized she still had family; still had someone who cared for her. And with that one realization, her impenetrable shell suddenly fell to dust in the sand around her feet.

* * *

**Happy Fourth to all Americans, and happy Friday to the rest of the world. Love to hear any thoughts you care to share with me. **


	23. Chapter 23: A Christmas Confession

**This chapter is dedicated to alexmack32. A lover of A/U fics, I hoped she'd like this one…we're about as A/U as it can get, after all! But while I certainly appreciate her awesome reviews and her kind words for me, what I'd really like to thank her for is for all the hard work she does on her blog, castlefanfics, on Tumblr. It is an incredible resource, and I know I am very grateful she puts in all the blood, sweat, and tears so that readers like me can easily find what we're looking for. Thanks Alex!**

* * *

December, 1999

"Kate?" Rick could feel the change in her mood. She was still sad, still sobbing quietly in his arms. But she suddenly felt more open. Accepting of his support in full.

"Shh, Rick. Please, just hold me for now," she hiccupped.

"No problem," he rumbled. He gathered her tighter in his arms, then sat down on the sand, careful not to hurt her. She noted the concern; her estimation for him rose higher.

They sat together for over thirty minutes. Rick was hot; he was in the direct sun, with a crying woman wrapped in his arms. However, he wouldn't have moved except for the direst emergency.

As the force and frequency of her sobs diminished, Rick was able to let his mind wander over what he knew of Kate Beckett. There were the obvious things he'd discovered since the shipwreck: she was resourceful, smart, hard-working and feisty. He'd heard on the ship she was from New York, like he was. Beyond those paltry facts, she was a mystery. However, for the first time in his life, he found that he was yearning—burning—to know more about her.

He'd known for a while he was enamored with her. She was gorgeous, intelligent and, well, hot. When she smiled at him, with that smile he had only seen a few times, he wanted to prostrate himself in front of her and do whatever she bid of him. As he'd spent more time with her and started recognizing the incredible sorrow that radiated from her very pores, he soon wanted nothing more than to take on some of the burden for her.

No relationship with any woman, save his mother, had ever induced such concern and caring that he had for Kate. Did he want to have sex with her? Absolutely, no question. But if he could only make her a little happier, lighten her load for a while, and let her know how much he cared? Well, he would be the happiest of men for nothing more.

He had no idea what Kate thought of him. He doubted she had thought that much about their relationship. She was too mired in melancholy to see anything else but her own misery. Which was why he was sure she hadn't known it was Christmas; that she wouldn't have made him any presents. He didn't care. He only wanted to see her smile a bit today, and for whatever time she could manage, lift the veil on her heartache. He would do whatever it took to accomplish that.

Right now, it seemed that holding her tight in the broiling sun was required. So be it. He would be the most comforting sobbing-woman-holder that ever existed. He just hoped that she would open her heart to him a tiny bit; confide what she could to him. Not knowing what made her so sad was very frustrating. He had no idea what to say-what he _could_ say—to her to try and help. He just knew that somehow, someway Richard Rodgers was close to falling in love with this woman. The knowledge filled him with equal parts euphoria and terror.

* * *

Kate was feeling quite enervated. She'd cried so long and hard this time she wasn't sure there was energy left for breathing, let alone moving. And she had no desire to leave her comfortable little nest, encircled by his strong arms. She felt safe, secure and…loved. She hadn't felt this way for over a year.

Initially she'd been inattentive to any sensory input other than her own sobs. Soon though, she'd started to notice that she was being held, and that it made her snuggle closer to him. She could feel the concern that he radiated for her; knew without asking he would do anything for her.

A sharp pain from her chest startled her. She wondered at it, then had the sudden image from one of her favorite Christmas cartoons pop into her head. Like the Grinch, her heart had shrunk to a teensy-weensy size. And with the care and love of this man, it was suddenly growing much bigger. Since it was Christmas Day, she couldn't think of a better way to explain her sudden giggling fit that replaced her previous sobs.

Rick seemed a bit confused by the jumbled explanation, so she tried a different tack.

"I'm sorry I've been so gloomy and sad," she muttered into his chest. She still couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes.

"It's ok," he soothed, rocking her slightly like an infant. "I just want to help you. I told you before that I'm a good listener."

She nodded.

"I've come to care a lot about you Kate, but there's a part of you that you've always held apart. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but I want you to know that you _can_, if you decide you need or want to share."

"It's nothing to do with you, or with the wreck. It has to do with my life…before."

He simply hummed against the top of her head, hoping she'd keep talking. He was afraid to make any comments, as if she were a tiny bird that would startle at the sound of his voice and fly off forever. When she began talking, he thought she sounded as though a dam had broken.

"My parents were both lawyers. I'm an only child, and while I went through a slightly rebellious stage, I decided to follow in their footsteps after I graduated from high school. I got in to Stanford and was quite certain I'd be the first female Chief Justice on the Supreme Court."

She fell silent for a minute, but Rick didn't breach the still air. He was too busy cataloging all the information she'd poured forth; thrilled by the data she'd given him so effortlessly.

"I was in my freshman year at Stanford, loving it. Winter break a year ago brought me home for the first time since I'd left for classes. It was great, visiting my parents, seeing my old friends. My mom seemed a little distracted, but she just told me she was working on a disturbing case. I didn't pay too much attention. Too busy getting ready to head back to California and to resume the college life, free from my parents."

He felt her shudder as the last statement was spoken. Clutching her tighter, he felt her breathing even out. She grabbed his arm in one hand, seeming to draw strength from the feel of his skin beneath hers.

"January ninth, we were supposed to all meet at a restaurant for dinner. It was going to be the last dinner out we'd have before I left. My dad and I waited…and waited. She never showed. My dad called the house and her office, but no one ever answered. Eventually, we just headed home together. I wasn't too worried; figured she'd gotten caught up in something. She could be like a hound on a scent sometimes. But then, when we got home…" She started sobbing anew.

Rick rocked her some more, trying to offer what comfort he could. He knew without her saying that her mother was dead; she was too heartbroken for this story to have a happy ending. But, oh, how he wished he could whip out a pen and right—write- the wrong for her.

"There was a police car waiting for us. I knew something had happened. I started crying, screaming, but my dad was so calm. He made me stay in our car and got out to talk to the officers. I saw him buckle under the news, and I couldn't stay put; I ran to him. He just pulled me into a hug. She was dead. Murdered in an alley. Stabbed, left to bleed out amongst the garbage."

"Oh, Kate. I'm so sorry. So, so sorry," he murmured into her hair. Tears of his own were falling, catching in her brown curls like dewdrops.

"They said it was just random violence. Probably a gang. It didn't make any sense to me. I didn't want it to. My dad tried to get me to go back to Stanford…after her funeral. But I refused. I couldn't go to school. I tried transferring to NYU, but I dropped out within a few weeks."

Rick could feel her shivering, despite the heat. Hugging her as tight as he could, he splayed both of his hands wide open, trying to impart his support to her physically as well as emotionally. He thought it helped, at least in part. Her shivers diminished in amplitude.

"Dad was strong up until the funeral. I caught him that night drinking himself to sleep. Who would deny him the numbness he needed to sleep through that horrific night? But that one night turned into the following day. Then a few nights a week. And it rapidly spiraled into the only way he could cope with her being gone. I lost both my parents that January night; I just didn't know it at the time."

Rick didn't know what to say. He'd battled his own demons named drink and drugs, but his had visited him as a reward for his celebrity, not as a means to forget an indescribable pain. He couldn't imagine what Kate's father had gone through, but he hated the man for abandoning his daughter when she clearly needed him.

"What did you do?"

"Cleaned up after him as best I could. Tried to look after him. Tried to be strong. Failed on all counts. I decided I'd never be a lawyer. But I still wanted to do something to bring some justice to the world," she sighed. Caught in the powerful memory, no longer sobbing. Talking about it all was cathartic.

"My mother always enjoyed mystery novels; I used to poke a little fun at how much she loved the law, that she then willingly read about such things in her spare time. I never understood it, until after she died."

Rick nodded. He of all people could appreciate the power of a story.

"I found a book she'd been reading; it looked as though it was an old favorite, dog-eared and broken spine. I picked it up, started to read. And I felt closer to her. I got caught up in the story, which has a happy ending, of course. And I knew. I wanted to help bring some of that satisfaction to the families of victims. The satisfaction of justice that I'd never received. I applied to the Police Academy within a week of picking up that book."

He was surprised. She was a cop? He'd never gotten a vibe like that from her, though to be honest her strongest vibe was sadness. For good reason, as it turned out.

"I was supposed to join the class that starts this January. Until then, I was just floating. Reading all my mom's favorite authors. Dreaming impossible dreams of vengeance and retribution. And then, my friend Lanie found me."

"You didn't want to see her?"

"I didn't want to see anyone. My dad was beyond my reach. My only thoughts were what I could do to make a difference on the streets; speak for the dead. I was marking time, waiting for January. Lanie turned it all on its ear."

"She sounds intimidating."

"Oh, you have no idea. You'd like her. She's an undergrad at Cornell, plans to go to medical school and then become a forensic pathologist. She's got her life neatly organized. And she was not impressed by my plan when she heard it."

"She didn't agree with you going to the Academy?"

"No, it wasn't that exactly. It was more that she could see what I was becoming. Once I went through those doors into the shadowy world of cops and robbers, she was afraid I'd be as lost to the greater world as my dad was to the bottle. She was probably right, you know?"

For the first time since he'd wrapped her in his arms an hour ago, she leaned her head back and looked in his eyes. Her eyes were clearer. But there was something else-he could _see_ her; it took his breath away that she'd opened herself to him. "So what did Lanie want you to do?"

"This. Well, ok, not this," she said, gesturing with one hand to the isolated lake beyond. "She wanted me to travel. Get out of the States, if I could. And when I came back, if I still wanted to go to the Academy, then at least I had done something to expand my horizons for a bit."

"So, you came to Tahiti?"

"Well, not at first. I went trekking in New Zealand, then laid on beaches in Australia. They are gorgeous countries, but they're both too big, too open for me to feel comfortable. In each I felt like turning to my side with each new vista and saying something to my mom about it. It was like she should be there with me."

"How'd you pick Tahiti then?"

"It was literally a brochure in Australia. I'd wanted something smaller; Tahiti was it. After several days in Papeete, I realized I needed more. Something substantial. I'd made friends with a couple that own a local coffee shop and they suggested going to some of the more remote islands to see how the regular people lived. I decided I had nothing to lose, and they gave me the name of a certain cargo ship whose captain was a good friend."

"Where you ran into a ruggedly handsome sailor." He smiled into her hair, remembering the first sight of her and how he'd been struck by her beauty even then. He'd sworn to avoid her; that particular desire had given way to one quite the opposite in feeling.

"Where I promptly ran into one of the most frustrating men I'd ever encountered," she said pushing his chest playfully. "You wouldn't speak. I kept talking and you just stood there, silent. I actually thought you were of limited intelligence, you know."

"You did? Hey, I can't help it if I was rendered mute by the sight of you. You were the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen."

She blushed, ducking her head again. "Well, you didn't improve on our next acquaintance. You mauled me!"

"You mean I saved your life!"

"Rick, you grabbed my chest!"

"Yes, but you didn't fall, did you?"

She chuffed at him. He knew she wasn't as mad as she was pretending. They were silent, each content to recall their memories of each other since then. Rick broke the silence first.

"Thank you for telling me Kate. It means a lot. And I now know why you've been so depressed. I can't take the pain away, but has talking about it helped?"

She nodded. "I didn't think it would. There were times I wanted to tell you, have someone to confide in. But most of the time I just wanted to be wrapped up in my own misery."

"I can't imagine what you've been through. But I'm here, now. I know it's not the same; we're not in New York. But I want to help you, and if talking is what you need, I'll listen. And if shutting the hell up is what you need, I'll take a hike."

She snaked her arms up, around his head, then kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Rick. For the first time since that awful January day, I feel like I have someone in my corner. I really appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure, Kate. Now, shall we go see about our Christmas dinner?"

She visibly hesitated.

"What?"

"I didn't get you anything. I wasn't thinking about Christmas at all."

"Kate, sharing your story with me was the only gift I need. My paltry items are far less valuable. And some of them are really for both of us. Don't worry about it."

She nodded, emotionally overcome again at his words. She'd had no idea those weeks ago how badly she'd misjudged him. And she was so thankful that she got a chance to see the real Rick.

* * *

The dead chicken was waiting for them, fortunately in the shade of the pergola. The breadfruit pot was dangerously low on water, but as the fire had died back without anyone to tend it, disaster was averted.

Kate prepped the chicken while Rick attended to the other items. Soon, the succulent smell of the roasting bird caused both of their mouths to water.

They'd discovered that the part of the lake nearest the channel opening to the ocean had the greatest mix of sea water, which made logical sense. Rick had been ecstatic to find some marine life that preferred salt to fresh water living there. It meant he could harvest fish and seafood in the canoe without Kate. He didn't trust it if he was alone in the open ocean.

He'd already collected a nice variety of shellfish for the breadfruit stew, which was soon bubbling quietly once again. With nothing more to do for at least ten minutes, he suggested that Kate open her presents.

She gave him a rueful look.

"Kate, please. I really don't want anything. Please, let's open them."

They made their way to the 'Christmas tree,' and Kate enthused for a few minutes over the decorations and clever design of the bamboo lattice. Rick's chest puffed out a bit; he had been quite proud when he thought of the idea.

The first package he handed her was also the smallest. Opening it, she found a small bracelet of candle nuts, dried and polished.

"A lot of the cultures in Polynesia use them for leis and such. I thought it would make a quick and easy bracelet."

"It's beautiful, thank you," she said, placing it on her wrist.

The next package was slightly larger, and Kate gasped when she opened it. It was a necklace that he'd strung together with some of the smallest coconut fibers he could find. It was decorated with various shells and pretty rocks that he'd found while working on the island. The overall effect was as though a beautiful piece of the beach had been strung together.

She placed it over her head immediately, and his vision of the sea goddess, the same he'd had soon after they'd first arrived on the island, revisited him.

"Rick! I don't know what to say. It's gorgeous."

"Yes," he said, though not looking at the necklace. She blushed again, dropping her eyes once more. He was no longer hiding his feelings for her. She wasn't in love with him. Had to get past the anniversary of her mother's death first. But she knew she _could_ love him. Very likely _would_ love him. Soon.

The final present seemed to be the one he was most excited about.

"This is for both of us, Kate. It will be really useful."

Curiosity piqued, she unwrapped the ti leaves—and found a fairly nondescript sea shell. It was large, sure. But nothing else recommended it. She frowned up at him, and he laughed at her confused expression.

"I think you lost part of it in the packaging," he explained, rooting around in the ti leaves. "Aha, here it is," he exclaimed, holding up a short piece of twine.

Now Kate was really confused. Was this more jewelry? How could it be for both of them? Rick had reached around the back of the bamboo tree and grabbed a water bottle she'd missed earlier. It was full of a liquid, though she couldn't tell what it was.

"Watch this, Kate."

He sat the shell so it formed a bowl, then poured the liquid in, nearly to the edge. Carefully placing the twine in one end, he then jumped up and ran off to the fire for a second. Turning the chicken, he came back with a twig that was lit on one end. Suddenly Kate understood, and she grinned at him.

He nearly dropped the twig. That smile shouldn't be legal.

"It's an oil lamp," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"Yes, it's an oil lamp. Now we'll be able to see, at least a little, in the tent."

"How did you make it?"

He explained about the candlenut pressing. She shook her head. She really hadn't been paying attention to much of anything recently.

* * *

Dinner was delicious.

Kate was gorgeous.

Rick was ecstatic.

He'd had a great day. Now he knew her story. He hoped she'd continue to be open with him. He wasn't naïve about the situation. She was used to being on her own, even though she hadn't chosen to be that way. They didn't know each other that well, but he wasn't going anywhere. He could be patient. And he knew the next few weeks would be quite hard on her.

Her mood had been much lighter the rest of the night. Not ebullient; far from it. But she talked to him, teased him. He was encouraged, to say the least.

When nightfall came, it was time to try out the shell lamp. After completing their usual rituals, the gathered in front of the kitchen fire pit once more. It was now full dark, and a new moon* at that. Perfect for trying out the light output.

Rick lit the wick and rejoiced at the bright flame that popped up immediately. He carried the shell to the tent, careful to keep it steady. Placing it on the ground between their pallets, he was pleased with the amount of light they had. Not enough to read by, or do much else. But some light where there had been none? It was a true gift; he felt like a king.

"Rick?"

"Yes, Kate?" She was sitting on her bed, looking a bit forlorn.

"I was thinking. Maybe we could put our pallets together?"

Rick stopped breathing. Utterly breathless. Surely to God he'd misheard. Perhaps candle nut oil was a hallucinogen? He held a hand up, saw five fingers. Hmm.

"I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine. I'm not asking to sleep with you. Well, I guess I am. But not to have sex. Just as friends."

The bellows of his chest moved, oxygen was restored. He could speak. "Are you sure? You won't be uncomfortable?"

She looked down, twisting some hair between her fingers in discomfort.

"I was just thinking you make me feel so safe."

"Ok. I'm glad," he smiled, trying to encourage her.

The hair was twisted a bit tighter.

"And I've been having nightmares."

Ah, the crux of the matter.

"You think you won't have any if we're sleeping next to each other?"

"Or at least not as many. And when I wake up, I won't feel so scared."

Not that he really needed convincing, but that last part galvanized him into action and soon their beds were no longer separated.

Ten minutes later, Rick was lying on his back, grinning in the dark and marveling at the events of the day. He would never have imagined that Kate would be lying next to him, even in his wildest dreams. Yet here she was. He was the luckiest guy in the world.

"Rick?"

"Yes, Kate?"

"You're still awake?"

"Yes."

She was silent for a second, so he turned onto his side, to face her. He couldn't see her, it was that dark. But it made him feel closer to her.

"Did you want to ask me something, Kate?"

She stirred, restless.

"Well, I was just thinking."

"Yeah?"

"Well, I told you all about my life and what happened to me. I was just wondering—you're from New York, too. But I have no idea why you came to the South Pacific or how you came to be working on the _Iriata_."

Rick rolled, returning to his back and stifled a groan. He was the unluckiest guy in the world.

* * *

***Christmas day, 1999 in the Southern Hemisphere was actually a just-waning moon. I took a liberty here for the story. Sorry.**


	24. Chapter 24

**This chapter is dedicated to cymru64. Sender of wonderful reviews and PMs, often with specific points of interest or things that were particularly enjoyed. Love hearing from you, and look forward to your thoughts on new chapters!**

* * *

December, 1999

Rick lay still for a minute, searching for the right words. He didn't want any misunderstanding to mar how open she'd been with him.

"You're right, Kate. You don't know much about me. And I want nothing more than to tell you all about my life, share why I'm here. But it's long and complicated. Much of it due to my own poor choices. I don't want to take anything away from you, or from honoring your mom's life. I think it better to talk about my stupidity after we get through the next few weeks."

He could hear her breathing evenly. She didn't seem too upset. He really did want her to know more about him, but he was afraid that if she knew the truth about him, about his previously profligate lifestyle, that she wouldn't be interested in knowing more. Or worse, would hate him.

"Did you murder someone?" she whispered.

"What?!"

"Are you wanted for a crime?"

He started laughing, not meaning to make fun of her, rather the idea. Him, murder.

"Only on paper," he quipped.

"Huh?"

He laughed again, knowing his cryptic comment would only make her more confused.

"I'm not wanted for any crimes, though I was arrested once, when I was younger."

"You were? For what?"

He pursed his lips, sighing. Hoped she wouldn't think less of him.

"I might have stolen a police horse."

"Rick!" she exclaimed, somehow accurately finding his chest in the dark with a light slap. "What were you thinking?"

Reassured by her light tone, he continued in the same vein.

"I was drunk at the time. And I was just borrowing it. I might have gotten away with just a warning if it hadn't been for the complaints of an uptight old maid."

"Did you run her over with the horse?"

"No, not exactly."

"Trample her flower bed?"

"No."

"I know! The horse left a calling card and she stepped in it?"

"No, nothing like that. We were in Central Park, though thankfully one of the less populated paths."

"Then why did she have it in for you? Surely it was the horse's rider that was the injured party, not some random old lady."

"Well, I think it had something to do with the fact that I was naked at the time."

The peals of her laughter, unheard for weeks, made recounting the embarrassing story worth it. He cherished the sound.

"So, other than scandalizing little old ladies and stealing police ponies, no other crimes?"

Resisting the urge to say something stupid like 'breaking girls' hearts', he simply reassured her he was a legal and upright citizen.

"Why did you think I might have been a criminal, anyway?" He was curious about her thought process. He certainly didn't act like a criminal; he'd had the respect of all his shipmates. He couldn't understand why she'd even think he was running from the law.

She shifted on the mattress, suddenly the one uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

"Don't be mad, but it was something that Grollet said."

"Grollet? The man who tried to kill us?" His voice rose as a flash of anger seared him. Why would she listen to something _that_ man said?

"Yes, Grollet, the man who tried to kill us. Listen, I haven't forgotten that part. Believe me, I'll _never_ forget that piece of our story. But he kept wondering why you were halfway around the world, working on a cargo ship, and it made me think. I mean, people running from their past might do something like that."

Trying to keep his anger in check, he answered. His forcibly even tones betrayed the emotion.

"Kate, I'm not running from the law. I have my reasons, and I'll tell them to you in time. Whatever Grollet suspected me of doing pales in comparison to what he did to us."

"You're right, and I'm sorry I mentioned him. I was just so frustrated with you at times back then, and he probably saw I was vulnerable to suggestion."

"I'll admit we had some piss-poor communication going on back then. Anapa and Hina both knew what I was doing, why I was there. I didn't think it was anyone else's business. Certainly not Grollet's."

She stiffened a little; he felt her withdraw, so rushed to cover the accidental insult.

"You definitely deserve to know as well, Kate. But I'm not proud of the story, and there are some things that may upset you. Nothing criminal. Just really poor choices. I wish I'd lived a more exemplary life; I hate to disappoint you. But I suppose if I had led a perfect life, we wouldn't be here, together."

She relaxed again, comforted by his words and the emotion tangible in his voice.

"Rick, the past is the past. It serves to remind us of what we did, who we were. But it's not who you are now. When I look at you, I see a man who saved my life, in many ways. Physically, from a sinking ship. Who taught me to survive. And who just today reminded me there is at least one person in the world that cares about me. So, I understand why you want to wait to talk about your past. I love that you want to concentrate on my mom for now, and I think you're right. But when we do talk about all this, nothing you say will make me think less of you. You're here now, with me. The past has no bearing, other than how it brought us together."

Rick reached over and stroked her arm in silent thanks, then rolled onto his back again. As sleep claimed him, he could only think about how he really was the luckiest man alive.

* * *

The week that followed Christmas was a bit of a roller coaster in their relationship. Rick thought he would be able to avoid some of the stupid statements he was sometimes prone to make, now that he was aware of the root cause of Kate's grief. He thought Kate would talk to him, now that she'd opened up about her mother's death. He wasn't prepared for a very moody Kate that snapped at him every time he opened his mouth.

After a long morning hearing snarky comment after snarky comment, he'd had enough.

"Kate, what is your problem today?"

They were working together, weaving leaves to make some large baskets that they needed for various projects. He'd shown her how to weave, and she'd picked it up very quickly. The baskets would be very useful, but it was also practice for the mats that would be used as walls and dividers in the shelter, which he would be starting soon.

He'd enjoyed teaching her how to weave; she was much better at it than he was, once she understood the concept. However, her bad mood was making him uncomfortable, and he was ready to go back and do something solitary for the day. Like harvesting bamboo. Or striking his head repeatedly on a rock.

"Nothing," she retorted, continuing her rapid weaving. She was already faster than he was.

"I can see something is bothering you. Did I do or say something that upset you?"

She muttered unintelligibly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Rick. You won't understand."

"Try me. I can be very understanding."

She was silent. He couldn't reconcile the Kate today from the one who'd sat in his arms three days ago sobbing hysterically. Women!

"Do you want me to go do something else? You're better at this than I am and there are lots of jobs that I could be doing."

More muttering, though he made out part of the end, "…suit yourself."

Throwing down the thick leaves he'd been using, he stood up and stretched.

"Ok, I'll leave you alone. I'm gonna go use the outhouse then go cut some more bamboo."

This time he heard most of what she said. It included the lovely phrase "…like I give a rat's ass what he's doing every minute of the day." Taking that as permission to leave, he walked off to the outhouse building, contemplating the great mystery that women present.

He'd only ever _technically_ lived with his mother, though growing up around the theater had exposed him to a lot of other females. Mostly, they'd ignored him. So, while he could say with confidence that he loved women, loved spending time with them in general, he could also say that he'd never wanted to live with one. Now, he had no choice in the matter.

All of his previous relationships with girlfriends had been brief, with the exception of Kyra and Meredith. Kyra hadn't ever lived with him; her mother wouldn't allow it. They did spend a lot of time together, but no more than a night or two a week.

Meredith had been a far more official relationship than the one with Kyra. She'd maintained her own place, but had essentially lived with him for the last several months of their relationship. However, he'd hardly ever seen her out of makeup, let alone at her worst. She was always 'on' around him, playing the part of an elegant woman with a relentless sex drive. He'd looked no further into her personality.

So, besides his mother, Kate was the only woman he'd spent day and night with; it had been a month essentially. And he had absolutely no idea what to do with her. It was maddening, frustrating. Yet, he was going to have to deal with her and vice versa. It wasn't like they had a viable alternative. And thinking about his ex-girlfriends reminded him he had yet to discuss his past with Kate. What a fun conversation that was going to be if she remained this moody.

He admired his outhouse structure once again as he approached. He'd learned a lot putting it together, knowledge he'd now apply to the much larger shelter. He was justifiably proud of coming up with a great solution to their waste management issue. It looked good, it was sturdy, and it served an essential purpose.

He'd brought a scoop of wood ash with him; they used it in the hole after each visit to help with odor control and to speed degradation. One of the baskets Kate was weaving would be put to use to shuttle larger amounts of ash to the outhouse so they didn't have to carry it with them each trip.

Setting down the bowl of ash on the floor, he turned and caught sight of a cardboard box on the floor that he hadn't seen before. Out of curiosity, he picked it up.

Oh.

Ooohhhhh. Suddenly Kate's surly attitude was explained. He was holding a box of tampons. And it was at least halfway empty. She must have grabbed them in her private items from the boat. And it didn't appear that there would be any for next month. Glad he wasn't a woman, he started thinking of ways to broach the topic. This wasn't something he'd ever have thought about as an issue. Yet, to her, it was a huge problem. Thank God he'd spent so much time with Hina during his voyages in the last year.

* * *

"Hey Kate, that basket looks great."

She was still where he'd left her, though she had made quite a bit of progress on the basket. It really did look quite nice. Certainly functional.

Her only reply was a grunt. Not much of an opening.

"So, you're doing so well with the weaving, I'm sure we'll be able to use your skills for other items too."

Another grunt.

"And the rope we've been able to twist; it will come in handy with the shelter."

He knew he was babbling, but he wasn't sure how to bring up such a sensitive topic.

"Didn't you say you were going to go do something?" she finally asked.

Giving her a winning smile that was wasted when she didn't look up, he tried some charm. "Yeah, well, I decided to spend more time with you."

"Lucky me," she muttered to the grass in her hand.

"Listen, Kate. I wanted to talk about something."

She stopped weaving and finally looked up at him after he wouldn't continue.

"What? Spit it out, or let me work."

"Yeah, see…it's kind of personal."

"Well, Rick, I'm no therapist. So whatever it is, you're going to either have to tell me or sort it out yourself."

She bent back down to weaving, clearly preferring the latter option over the former. He couldn't see her face; today her hair was worn down and it curtained over her, obscuring her from his view. He surmised this was deliberate, as it sure didn't look like it would be a comfortable way to weave. It was her way of hiding from the world. And right now, the world consisted only of him.

Should he be direct? Or dance around the topic? This was decidedly not something he wanted to be discussing, but they were going to have to deal with living on a remote island with very few modern conveniences available. And since she had no one else to turn to, he was somehow elected as the font of knowledge about this particular area. God save them both.

"So, Kate? I couldn't help but notice there was a box of tampons in the outhouse." He'd decided on the direct approach. Rip off the band aid and all that.

She stopped all movement, but didn't look up. She looked like a frozen figure in one of those anthropology exhibits at a museum: 'Island woman weaving basket.'

"I'm sure this isn't something you really want to talk about, but if we're stuck here for a while this is going to be an issue for you."

She remained frozen. He couldn't tell if she was gigantically pissed or humiliated. Probably both. He plowed on.

"Even if you have more boxes of tampons stashed away, at some point you're going to run out, so I thought I should probably mention what women in the islands generally do. Disposable sanitary napkins are expensive and disposal is difficult."

He thought she took a breath or two, though it was difficult to tell. This didn't need to be a didactic interaction, so he decided to finish his thoughts and let her think about it.

"There are a couple options. One would be to use some of the extra clothes we brought from the ship. Torn into rags, they could be washed and reused. That's what a lot of women in American and Europe did prior to disposable products being available. Some women here use a bundle of grass in their underwear. But by far the majority of women in the islands use sea sponges. I know there are bunches in the outer lagoon, so we could grab some on our next trip out. Probably useful for a lot of things."

She still hadn't moved.

"Ok, well, that was all I had to say. I'm sure this is a bit embarrassing, but it's a natural function and I didn't want you to feel like you were alone trying to figure some of this stuff out. I'll be cutting bamboo."

He spent the rest of the afternoon harvesting the pieces he'd need to start the shelter and floating them down the lakeshore to Pereora. He didn't see Kate again until it was almost time for dinner. She was in a better mood, though not entirely herself.

They spent a quiet evening after they ate busy twisting more fibers into rope. Rick did most of the talking, as usual. He was a gregarious person by nature, and having spent most of the afternoon alone, he was ready to talk.

"We've got enough rope to start the shelter. We'll have to move our little tent somewhere else. I figured we could just string up the tarps under one end of the pergola. That way we'd be close, and we don't need to find a suitable campsite."

"Good idea," Kate grunted. She was focused on her task; as usual much more adept at twisting the fibers together than Rick could ever hope to do. Her dexterity with her fingers made her much better at the tasks like weaving and rope-making.

"I got some of the bamboo we'll need for the framing, but there wasn't enough of the bigger pieces I'd like to use. I think it's time to take a few days and really walk around the island. We've explored the shoreline, but there are large areas of the interior that we haven't seen."

"Sure."

She didn't sound enthused, but she also didn't sound against the idea either. He thought about it for a minute before mentally slapping himself. Now was clearly a time that Kate would not want to be wandering around far from their home camp.

"But I've got a few other projects I'd really like to get done before doing that. Just moving our shelter to the pergola will take a good half day or more if we take the time to try and make it more waterproof than it is right now."

It was still the rainy season, and when he'd set it up originally, he'd been trying to make as much space for them as possible. This had led inevitably to leaks.

"Less rain inside would be nice," she replied, a tiny smirk on her face. It was the first half smile of the day; he rejoiced in its appearance.

"I really need to make my fire-bow system since our matches are being used so frequently. It doesn't take a long time to make, but I want to do it right the first time. And maybe you could make a long, skinny basket to store it in for me? I'll waterproof it with some of the sap from breadfruit trees."

She grunted, which he took as an affirmative.

"We need to make a map of the island as we explore. And I want to clear the path between the shelter site and the outhouse better. I'm going to put up a handrail or something so that it's possible to walk to it in the dark of night without losing the way."

"I'd appreciate that," she murmured. However, his mention of the outhouse reminded her of her current issue and she fell silent once again. They worked another five minutes or so in complete silence before she rose and bid him goodnight. He followed after ensuring the fire was nearly out.

She wasn't in the shelter when he arrived. He lay down, grimacing a bit at how damp everything felt in the humid night air. He really needed to get them into a better shelter.

Sleepless, he was still wide awake when she finally entered the tent ten minutes later. She was nearly silent, thinking he was asleep, so when he whispered goodnight to her after she'd lay down on her adjoining mattress, she startled.

"Night, Rick."

They lay quietly, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Lying so near each other, yet the gulf that currently existed between them seemed too far to cross. All it needed was a bridge. A span of words; communication. He'd tried, Lord knows. But he didn't know Kate well enough to keep from driving her away further with his awkward comments and fumbling attempts to help. Perhaps silence was the best strategy at this point. Perhaps she'd come to him. Perhaps a helicopter would land in the sand tomorrow and take them home. Or drop off a few steaks and burgers.

"Rick?"

Her words so quiet, he nearly didn't notice she'd spoken while he was lost in his own world of thoughts and recriminations.

"Yes, Kate?"

"I just—I—I just wanted to thank you," she rushed out.

"Thank me for what?"

"For—for trying to talk to me today."

"You don't need to thank me for that, Kate. I'm just trying to help."

"I know. This isn't easy for me, any of it. I'm a person who keeps things inside, tucked away and hidden from the rest of the world, and after my mom died and my dad—well, you know what I've told you about that time. But I didn't have anyone to talk to. I didn't let anyone close. I guess I was afraid that I'd lose them too."

"What about Lanie? I thought she was a good friend."

"She is, as close as anyone is. But she was back at school when it all happened, and when she found out and tried to call me I just ignored her. I didn't want to talk to anyone at the time. Couldn't talk to anyone."

"So what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I assume she did talk to you at some point. Isn't she the reason you're here now?"

"She came home on break and found me. I suppose enough time had passed at that point that I was able to let her in, just a bit. She knows about my dad; that was impossible to hide. And I guess it's why she convinced me to get away for a while. But I didn't talk to about how I really felt. She knew, I suppose. Some of it. But I couldn't talk, even to her."

"Yet, you talked to me."

She was thankful that this whole conversation was taking place in the dark. It was the cover she needed to feel comfortable enough to say what she wanted to say to him.

"I know. I did. I feel safe with you, safer than I've felt in a long time. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm uncomfortable talking about a lot of things. Especially personal things."

"Like your period?"

Good Lord, the man held nothing back. "Yesss, that would be one example."

"Look, Kate. I know a lot of women don't like to talk about such personal items with men they don't know well. But we're alone here. It's a natural function, and there's nothing we can do about it. I don't think you know this, but I was raised by a single mother. Just me and her. There were a lot of years where we had next to nothing and lived in really tight quarters. She's not one to be very private. In fact, I know more about her personal habits than I want to. But, I think it gave me an insight into women that I wouldn't have had otherwise. It doesn't bother me to talk about these things, so please don't worry you'll be upsetting me somehow."

She replayed his words and the meaning of his message over in her head. It was uncanny how the man knew what to say to her so often. Although, he was also quite talented at saying the wrong thing at the wrong time as well.

"I can't change who I am overnight, Rick. But I promise to try and remember what you've said here tonight. I appreciate the support, I really do. It's just so hard to let someone in, after all that's happened to me."

"I can't imagine what you've been through. I'm not asking for a one eighty in one night. I just want to make sure we're able to talk to each other. You're my entire world right now, like I'm yours. And I want to help you get through the anniversary of your mom's death. I'm not saying it will be easy, or that you're not going to grieve. That wouldn't be healthy and it wouldn't be right. But if you let me, I'll help you through it."

She shifted on her mattress, uncomfortable both physically and mentally. It seemed as though her depression and heartache made her cramping worse.

"I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking. We'll get past January ninth. Collectively. Then we'll be able to move forward with what we need to do here."

"I can't see past it yet, Rick."

"I know. But you will. And we'll do it together."

He reached out and found her hand; she was lying closer to him than he'd thought. He gave her fingers a squeeze, showing his support. Though he couldn't see her, he felt some of the tension leaching out of her body. Soon they were both able to drift asleep, hands still intertwined.

* * *

**Most of the information about menstruation through history and in different parts of the world comes from a website called the Museum of Menstruation, mum dot com. Yes, folks, it is fascinating what you can find on the internet when you look for it. **

**Sorry if this was a topic you were uncomfortable with, or thought I overdid. However, as the woman writing this story, early on in planning this fic I started wondering about the topic of menstruation. Ten years on an island, they'd have to deal with it somehow. And I feel confident in thinking all the women reading this would think of little else as those few tampons disappeared. I simply can't imagine not having access to modern methods of dealing with this. Poor Kate.**


	25. Chapter 25

**This chapter is dedicated to Chkgun93. I love getting reviews from him because he served in areas all over the world, including the tropics. He's reminisced about some of his experiences in those areas, and it's a true thrill when he lets me know what details I've nailed. Thanks, as always, for the support.**

* * *

December, 1999

Rick spent the next few days finishing all the odd jobs they'd discussed. He moved the tarps of their shelter to the end of the pergola that they planned to use some day as a dining area. He made the tent area smaller than they'd had before; they didn't need as much room now that their pallets abutted each other. This allowed better overlapping of the tarps, and he was able to support the 'roof' tarps more effectively.

He was then able to start clearing the path to the outhouse into a wider avenue. He built a hand rail that was waist high on both sides. He decided to take the time to lay a floor down along the path: since it was dirt, it was prone to becoming quite muddy after it rained. And it rained a lot.

The floor was made quickly, by making it modular. He simply took two lengths of bamboo, about five feet long, and tied them together by laying lengths of more bamboo, about two feet wide, across them like a train track. He used the x-gouge system to fit them together, and used some grass rope that Kate twisted for him to tightly bind it all together. He smeared the two long pieces with breadfruit sap, as they would be in direct contact with the mud. It wouldn't eliminate rot, but it would prolong their lifespan.

Since the pieces were modular, it was then quite simple to lay them along the path. If they ever needed to move the outhouse, they could move the path pieces as well. And as the pieces were all relatively short, he set up a little factory near the kitchen area to make them in bulk. It definitely beat the back-breaking labor that laying a floor directly in the mud would have been.

He was done a few days later. It was now a simple matter to walk to the outhouse from the future shelter. No lamp or light would be needed. He was very proud of his work; it wasn't something that improved their chances of survival, but it definitely made things easier to deal with. They were finally at a point where making life more comfortable was both possible and necessary.

Wandering back to the kitchen once he'd finished admiring his handiwork, he found Kate weaving more baskets under the pergola.

"All done. I think you'll really like it."

She looked up and smiled. God, he loved that smile. And doing things to earn it.

"Great. Thank you; the idea for making a bamboo path to keep out of the mud is something I'll definitely appreciate. I'm so tired of wet feet."

"The rainy season is usually over in March, but that still leaves a few months to deal with lots of mud and humidity."

"I can't wait," she sighed.

"So, when do you want to start our exploration trip?"

"Rick, if you're asking if I can leave Pereora, then the answer is today. I don't need to stick close to camp anymore. Thanks for being so understanding."

"It's no problem, Kate. Do you want to go today? It's still early."

"Actually, I thought we might take the canoe and go to the outer lagoon today. I made up a kind of picnic and gathered some things; we could have a dinner on the little beach out there. I was even thinking we might camp out there, celebrate a little bit."

Rick was puzzled. "What are we celebrating?"

"Surely you know what day it is?"

He did, just hadn't thought she'd want to do anything or acknowledge it in any way. It was so close to her mother's murder date.

"It's New Year's Eve."

"I didn't think you'd want to do anything," he cautioned, watching her for signs of distress. He didn't want her to feel obligated to do anything.

"I normally wouldn't, not with—well, you know," she trailed off, as he nodded sympathetically. "But it's an especially important New Year's Eve, isn't it?"

"It's the last day of the century, Kate." Couldn't help some of his boyish enthusiasm from coloring his words.

"I know. That's why I thought we might do something special."

"If we were in the real world, we'd be all worried about Y2K," he mused. "But there aren't any computers out here."

She laughed, the sound lifting his heart as usual. "No, we don't have to worry about the millennium bug here on a deserted island. Though I wonder what everyone is doing out in the big, wide world."

"Maybe it's a good thing we're here. Can you imagine if all the computers shut down like people are expecting? New York would be a nightmare."

She gave him a rueful look. "I doubt I'd care if I were in New York. I don't think I'd be celebrating anything about this New Year."

"Why is it different here?" He was frankly surprised she'd suggested the trip, let alone celebrating anything. He'd been anticipating that the coming days leading to January ninth would be especially difficult for her.

"Nothing on this island reminds me of my mom, or of my former life. And I'm with you; you make me feel safe. I'm sad and angry my mom is dead, but she wouldn't be here with me if she were still alive." She wiped a few tears from her eyes before continuing.

"For all we've been through, surviving everything we have, I think it's fitting that we celebrate the start of a new year together. Today just feels different to me, though I imagine this next week will be hard. Do you think that's okay?" she asked with a watery smile.

"Yeah Kate, I think it's okay. I didn't know your mom, but from what you've told me about her, I think she'd be really proud of you. How you've come through so much, when many people would have just given up. I'm sure she'll be there celebrating with us."

Kate couldn't speak, too many tears were rolling down her face after Rick's reminder that her mom was still with her in spirit, if not in person. She just nodded, hands covering her face.

"Ok, let's do it. The moon is waxing, so we should have enough room at high tide to be able to camp out," he interjected, trying to lighten the mood a bit. If nothing else, doing something so different for the coming night would help distract Kate from the specter of the coming date in January.

They took a few blankets, some of the baskets that Kate had finished, and food for their meals. A tarp, to use as a makeshift tent, would protect them from the inevitable rain at night and the empty bucket, to bring back any treasures that required water, rounded out their supplies.

* * *

They popped out of the channel in mid-afternoon. It was another sunny day, with a few fluffy clouds scudding across the blue sky. Looking around the vast ocean surrounding their island, Kate was once again disappointed to see nothing. No boat, no sign that anyone ever came near. They made their way quickly to the biggest beach. From their low position in the canoe, they could see no indication of their sign that they'd formed last visit. Deciding not to worry about it, Kate concentrated on enjoying the day with Rick.

Setting up camp beyond the high tide mark, Rick gathered rocks to make a fire ring while Kate smoothed out some sand to set up a tent structure. She went and found some suitable branches to use as poles, but they weren't going to put the tarp up until evening. She just hoped it didn't rain too hard tonight.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the lagoon. Rick showed her the sea sponge clusters and how to pry them off the rocks where they were anchored. She gathered a dozen good sized sponges for personal use and for the kitchen.

Rick fished and spent some time looking for crabs. They'd brought some raw breadfruit for dinner, but planned to catch the rest of it. While looking for crabs, Rick found some rocks that were just out of the waves. He hadn't noticed them on the previous trip, but was delighted to find they were crusted with tiny crystals. Prying off a few chunks, he ran back to where Kate was exploring.

"Look what I've found," he exclaimed.

She looked at his outstretched hand, not sure what the small crystals were.

"What is it, Rick?"

"Taste it."

"No way."

"C'mon, Kate. Trust me, you'll like it."

She glared at him. It didn't look like something one should taste, but she was sure he wouldn't ask her to taste something awful. Pretty sure, anyway.

"What is it, Rick?" she repeated.

"Kate, just lick it," he whined. He could be such a baby sometimes.

"Fine, but if this makes me sick, you're in trouble."

"It won't make you sick, I promise."

Tentatively picking up one of the small crystals in his outstretched hand, she touched the tip of her tongue to it.

"I don't taste anything?"

"Just put the whole thing in there."

She decided to humor him and popped it in her mouth without any further discussion. A second later she had a huge smile on her face.

"Salt!"

He showed her the rocks and they spent some time prying off as much as they could.

"Is this what native people do for salt?"

"Well, I suppose some might, though it's pretty labor intensive. The crystals are so small. Most people make their own from seawater."

"Could we do that?"

"Sure, but it would take time. We'd need to fill several large buckets of salt water. You have to filter it, which we can do with a cloth, boil it and dry it. It's definitely a project that will take a few days to make a large quantity, but it would be worth the trouble. It'd be nice to have a little salt with the meals."

"Yeah, especially since I used up all the ship's supply preserving the dead chickens when we first left the ship."

"Well, that was very important at the time, but some seasoning for our cooking now would be great."

"You said it would take several days?"

"To make a decent quantity, yeah."

"How would we do that without having access to salt water at Pereora?"

"Well, that's a good question. If we get some large baskets completely waterproofed with our breadfruit sap, we could use them and the bucket to haul water in from the ocean. Or, we could take a few days at some point and come and camp on the beach."

"That might be nice. If we saw any ships or signs of people, we might be rescued."

"We could use the time while the salt is being prepared to fish and dry the fillets to preserve them. Then we'd have a good stock of protein, besides eggs."

"Well, that sounds like the best plan. When do you want to plan this big trip?" she teased. Obviously they weren't going far, but psychologically being away from their base camp made it seem like a journey of some distance.

"The moon is waxing now. Shall we wait until the waning moon in about two weeks?" He wasn't sure how she'd feel about that; it would be just after the anniversary of Johanna Beckett's murder.

"I think that would be fine, Rick," she said, slowly. Her eyes were cast down at the sand, reluctance easy to read in her hunched shoulders. She surprised him when she lifted her head to look directly into his eyes, sincerity pouring from them as she conveyed her next statement. "I'll need to get away for a bit, after. Since we can't go far, this might be the best place to be anyway."

"Are you sure you'll want to be stuck with me on such a small beach? There's nowhere to go if you want to get away."

"I'm not sure, but I think it will be what I need. If I have to go back, you'll understand?" She looked at him with such trust that all he could do was nod wordlessly. He'd do whatever she needed.

* * *

January, 2000

An uncomfortable night spent huddled under the insufficient tarp as rain deluged the spit of a beach eventually gave way to a bright dawn. They'd wanted to see in the New Year by staying up until midnight (or at least what they thought was midnight with Rick's watch. He wasn't sure it was still accurate.), but the rain had driven them under the tarp and they'd fallen asleep to the rhythmic pounding on the plastic that tried to protect them from the downpour.

It was certainly a very different New Year's Eve than Rick's typical celebration as an adult. No debauchery. Not even a kiss at midnight, since they were both asleep by then. Plus he wasn't going to push her, right now at least.

But, it wasn't his first quiet New Year's. He'd celebrated the year before in the South Pacific, having already left New York. He'd simply lost himself in a crowd in Papeete, then melted into the shadows after the clock struck twelve. He'd been at loose ends during those first few weeks here on the other side of the world.

Then Anapa had found him. And his own first year anniversary was coming at the end of January, though he considered his time on the _Iriata_ a blessing. It was the complete opposite of the anniversary Kate was about to observe. Anapa and Hina had shown him how to be a man, helped him grow into the person he was today.

All in all, he quite preferred being able to remember what had happened on the last day of the year, and waking up without a pounding head and in a strange location no longer held any attraction for him.

He'd prepared breakfast for the two of them when Kate made her first appearance.

"Morning."

She gave him a small glare and accepted his offer of some coconut. Typically a morning person, she was a bit grumpy at times. He expected this would worsen as the days rolled inexorably to the date she dreaded more than any other.

"Welcome to the year two thousand. As you can see, the world did not in fact end as predicted. Well, as far as I can tell."

She chewed on her breakfast for a few minutes before a tiny smirk appeared and she deigned to answer him. "You never know, Rick. Maybe we're the last two people alive." There was a tiny lilt to her voice as she teased him. He gave silent thanks. She was trying. He couldn't ask for anything more.

"Well, wouldn't that be a fortunate occurrence for the human race?" he replied, pompous on purpose. His plan did not fail, as she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"How do you figure?"

"Just think of how great looking all humans will be in the future."

She shook her head. "I don't follow you."

He gave a pretend sigh and prepared to run, certain he'd need some distance from her once she processed his next words.

"Well, Kate, it's like this: with a handsome man like me playing the role of Adam, and a beautiful woman like you as Eve, our children will be nothing if not incredible looking. Not to mention smart, with my brains. Our descendants will bring a new level of good looking to the human race." With that, he was off like a shot, though not before being pelted by some coconut.

"Not if you were the last man on Earth," she yelled at him as he sprinted down the beach, laughing.

"I thought you just implied I was," he shouted back, then doubled over in laughter as he saw her expression. Oh, that had been worth it. Very worth it.

She'd forgiven him a few hours later. Well, after she'd managed to trip him in the surf. He'd fallen quite ungracefully, gotten soaked, and came up sputtering with some seaweed covering his head. She'd had her turn laughing until she cried, and they were even.

He reflected on their little trip as they slowly paddled back through the channel. It had been fun, though if they were going to camp for several days they'd need a better shelter. Overall, it had been good for them. He felt like they continued to draw closer to each other, even though there was still a lot they didn't know about each other. It was clear they could rely on each other to survive. Everything else would come with time.

* * *

The next few days after their return were spent exploring fully the interior of the island. It was hard, hot work as some areas were nearly impenetrable with the lush growth engendered by the frequent rain, warm temperatures, and rich, volcanic soil. However, it paid off as they made some exciting discoveries, and for the first time really appreciated how lucky they'd been to find this paradise.

Kate was put in charge of drawing the map on the single piece of paper Rick sacrificed to the cause. She had a better eye for details and was far superior in her artistry. Rick identified plants and they slowly filled in the large blanks that had represented their knowledge of the island past the shore and the plain they'd chosen as their home.

They started by heading east from Pereora, towards the bamboo thicket near the lakeshore that Rick had been harvesting from. Marching through the trees, they moved north until they came to the insurmountable cliffs that cut the island off from the sea.

"Most of these trees are ones we've seen before."

"I think I recognize them all. That's candlenut, right?" she asked, pointing to the correct tree.

"Yep. And I know you're familiar with that kind," he said, indicating another grouping of trees near the cliff wall.

"Breadfruit. I gather enough of those, I hope I recognize them. This looks like a bigger cluster though. I'm going to mark them down on the map."

"May I suggest using symbols, instead of the names? Then it would be easier to mark lots of types of plants."

"That's a good idea. We can make a key, so we don't forget." She quickly marked the two groves, then marked the banana plants that were interspersed. As they wandered back towards shore the Pandanus trees took over in number.

They continued to meander back and forth from the shore to the cliff, trying to accurately represent the terrain and the flora found between the two. Besides finding more sweet potato patches, the ubiquitous coconut palms, and a small group of taro in a shallow pond, they also found more bamboo. Not just any bamboo; giant bamboo. Located in a grove near the cliff walls just east of the grove Rick had been harvesting. It was clearly older, with some very large specimens.

"Look at these, Kate. These would be perfect for support poles for our new house." He could hardly believe the size.

Kate nodded, running her hand over one of the large stems. It was so big around that she couldn't span it with both her hands.

"You're right, but there's a problem. Maybe a deal breaker."

"What's that?" Rick was still lost in thought, marveling over the things he could do with such enormous poles.

"We're at the cliff wall. The lake is several hundred yards away."

"Uh huh."

"How are you going to get these huge pieces to the lake?"

Rick sobered. She had a point.

"Wellll, I could—no that wouldn't work. We could carry them out together?" Her skeptical look made him continue. "Or I guess I'll have to clear a path to the lake before I start harvesting."

"That might take a while. Maybe we should keep looking. We know where this grove is, maybe there's one closer to the lake?"

"I hope so, because these are so large, it would take probably an extra week or two to get a path cleared. And then moving them. It would be a real chore to drag them to the lake. But just look at 'em, Kate. They're huge," he said, patting one of the larger stems almost reverently.

"They are impressive, there's no doubt. But maybe this isn't uncommon here on this island."

"Wow, that would be exciting. You're right though, we need to keep looking. Who knows what else we'll find?"

* * *

The second day of their explorations found them almost halfway to the channel opening. Kate was busy recording the location of trees. She was focusing intently on the task, trying to keep busy so she didn't think about the fact that there was a week left until a year had passed from the worst day of her life.

"Kate, Kate!" She heard Rick crying out. He'd forged ahead of her, impatient to see what lay beyond the next rise, while she lagged behind being careful to record everything.

Rushing forward, she found him standing stock-still, staring up at a tree she didn't recognize.

"What is it?"

"It's a Noni tree."

"A what-ee tree?"

"Noni. No-knee."

"Noni tree? That sounds familiar. Have you told me about it before?"

"No, I don't think so. You probably heard it on the ship. Hina had a supply in her workshop."

"Oh, that's right. She mentioned it once, but we talked about so many things. It was all a bit overwhelming for this city girl."

"Well, it's pretty important here in the islands. It's been used by the native people for a variety of things. Do you see the fruits?"

He pointed to some green to yellow green globules that hung directly from the tiny branches.

"Yeah. They kind of look like green strawberries."

"I suppose. People eat them if they're starving. They're too bitter to eat regularly otherwise. But the juice is used on dry skin or chapped lips. It's also good for skin scrapes. And many women drink the juice for menstrual cramps."

"Sounds useful."

"Yeah, we want to gather the yellow-green ones. The ones that have turned white are too ripe."

They gathered just a few. "A little goes a long way, Kate."

It was the first purely medicinal plant that they'd found. Other trees and shrubs had properties that the islanders used for treating the sick, but the Noni was reserved nearly exclusively for alleviating various ailments. It didn't replace their lack of modern medicines, but Kate felt a little better knowing they had access to some of the same plants that had served for thousands of years before Western medicine had come to the South Pacific.

The next four days were spent in careful deliberation and observation. Rick was excited to find some Tahitian limes, which he said were similar to key limes. They would add vitamin C to their diet, and Kate was excited about the added flavors when they cooked.

By the time they finished their map, they had a complete record of what plants existed on the island and where they were located. They found more bamboo, but none as large as the ones near the cliff wall. Rick was determined to use the strongest material for their shelter, and resigned himself to the fact that harvesting what he wanted to use would take longer than expected.

At no point did they find any break in the cliff walls, nor any place that seemed easier to scale. Rick considered climbing the area near the waterfall, as it was the tallest point of the island, but the walls near there were slick with mosses and ferns. He gave up after nearly falling while just ten feet off the ground. Luckily, Kate had been busy with the map and didn't see the near miss.

They finished everything on January eighth. Rick thought it had been timed out perfectly. Kate had been distracted by the project during the day, and exhausted by all the labor so that she fell asleep almost immediately at night. He'd wanted to finish before the ninth, knowing it wouldn't be fair to her to try and take that day away from her.

By the afternoon of the eighth, there were no crucial jobs left to do. He could see the weight of the coming day pressing down on her as they retreated back to Pereora. He wasn't sure how to help her. He didn't think she knew what she wanted from him, either. Deciding to trust his instincts, he remained quiet. He thought she'd come to him if she needed him. He'd be happy to provide a strong shoulder to cry on.

His first clue that this was the wrong approach came that night. She'd crawled into her bed under the tarps in the pergola before it was even dark. He'd declared he was in charge of their food for the next few days, wanting to let her out of the mind-numbing chores so she could grieve in peace. Yet, she'd been silent at the dinner he'd prepared, and had barely touched the food. He'd thought it was delicious, using a bit of the salt he'd found and some of the limes to flavor the fish stew.

She'd completely ignored him when he came to bed as well. He might have thought she was asleep, except she was too still. Her body was tense, curled into a ball facing away from his bed. He reached out and placed a warm hand on her shoulder and whispered a 'night, Kate' to her back. He was trying to let her know he was there for her without intruding into her private world too much. She didn't respond, and he was asleep within minutes, the long labor of their days catching up with him.

He slept fitfully, fully expecting nightmares from her; they weren't unusual and as the calendar had rushed towards this date, she'd had more of them. Blood-curdling screams that startled him out of sound sleep. He comforted her as best he could, but he couldn't take the place of a beloved mother who'd meant the world to her. So, he was just there for her. A calming voice in the dark of night. It seemed to help, marginally. Yet on this night, of all nights, there were no nightmares. No screaming woke him.

It was the silence that finally registered in his sleep-addled brain. The absence of screams was just as important to his mind as their presence. Something was wrong.

Dawn hadn't broken yet, and it was pouring rain once again. However, there was just enough light to see around the tent. He wasn't sure why he had awakened until he looked over at Kate's mattress. Her screams weren't the only thing absent from the dark night. She was gone.

* * *

**A site I've referred to extensively for their excellent survival articles is Hedgehog Leatherworks. This is where I learned about the x-gouge system for making a structure easier to put together and much stronger, rather than just lashing two poles together. They also have great articles about making cordage from natural materials and the firebow system that Rick makes.**


	26. Chapter 26: Jan 9th and all is not well

**This chapter is dedicated to SeriouslyCarol, who has been very supportive of this story. I always appreciate her reviews and comments about how I've done with plot development and/or dialog. Thanks for reading and for letting me know what you thought of a chapter!**

* * *

April, 2010

Martha paused her reading, wiping her eyes surreptitiously and looking out the window so no one would notice her crying. It was both comforting and agonizing to read her son's story of his first weeks as a castaway.

Comforting because she was so proud of his obvious skills and ability to survive. He'd saved himself and Katie; clearly they had made it for ten years, with challenges she couldn't begin to imagine from the comfort of her home in New York or the cushy seat of her first class ticket.

Agonizing, because she'd missed so much time with him. Her heart ached for what he'd been through, for the fact that he was now incarcerated in an attempt to protect the woman that he obviously loved. She didn't know this Richard, this man that her boy had grown into. But she couldn't wait to see him; get to know him all over again.

The Richard she'd known had been a good boy; a great son. She'd long felt guilty about the lack of a father figure in his life, and her career as an actress had resulted in some very lean years for them when he was a child. They'd always been close, though perhaps less so as he'd grown and found such success on his own merits. Oh, how impressed she'd been when he finally sold his first book, then sat back in awe as it rocketed him to fame.

The cost of celebrity at such a young age hadn't registered with her until she noticed how often he was drunk or high. The parade of women she'd initially ignored, figuring it his due. Especially after the heartache of Kyra leaving him. And Martha had been busy, a newlywed: her second marriage. By the time she understood her son was in trouble, he was already neck deep and sinking fast. His fight back to sobriety had shown her how much he was capable of, though even after he'd conquered those demons he'd still seemed unhappy. Then the devil herself walked into his life, in the form of Meredith.

Martha felt responsible, in a way, for the debacle. Or at least for their initial meeting. Richard had been attending one of her cast parties for a play that had debuted to a better than expected opening. Meredith was at the party, having accompanied a friend. Richard was smitten immediately with the vivacious red haired beauty. Martha disliked her on sight. She was too shallow, too artificial for her son. But mothers rarely have much influence over who their children fall for, and Martha had kept her mouth shut. Most of the time, anyway.

The two had been inseparable, initially. Things had progressed far more quickly than with Kyra, though obviously Meredith didn't have disapproving parents breathing down her neck. Martha had been certain it was a relationship that combusted rapidly, but was destined to burn out just as quickly.

To her eternal surprise, Richard shocked her by going out and buying a ring. He told his mother all about his plans to propose, and why he wanted to marry Meredith. For the first time, Martha risked taking a stand about the woman. This was a mistake, and she didn't want to see her son suffer the heartache that was bound to occur if he married her. This did not go well, and he stayed mad at Martha for weeks.

Whatever might have happened between them would forever be a mystery; they broke up about two weeks later. Richard was quite upset. Martha was just relieved he'd never gotten around to asking Meredith to marry him. In Martha's opinion, Richard had become sober, thanks to God, only to nearly fall into a trap laid out by an ambitious woman. Meredith didn't care about him as a person, only what he could do for her career. He was rich, successful, and handsome. On his arm, she would get far more attention than she would garner on her own.

The issue was that her son was still in many ways the emotional equivalent of a child. While he was a great success by every measure professionally, he had yet to figure out how to manage his personal life as a mature adult. Martha blamed herself; she'd obviously not done enough to help him succeed emotionally.

Thus, when he decided he was going off into the world to research his next character, she was relieved. Perhaps the time away from New York, all its base temptations, would be good for him. Seeing how the rest of the world lived and worked would open his eyes; his success was hard earned, but came so easily to him. She didn't think he appreciated how lucky he was.

So, she'd thrown her support behind him and the trip abroad. His publisher and book agent had been appalled. Both rejected the idea, and Martha sensed Richard was scared to leave. Scared of what he'd find: in himself and in the big, bad world. It felt like she'd shoved him on the plane. He'd chosen Tahiti as his initial destination. She had no idea why, but it sounded like paradise to her, so she'd waved goodbye and hoped for the best.

Communication wasn't easy, at least by phone. Cellular technology was quite basic at that time in the U.S., and pretty much non-existent in French Polynesia. He'd used a calling card from his hotel a few times to call her, but their time was limited and the difference in the time zones made it especially awkward. So, she'd taken up the pen and paper. It wasn't something she enjoyed, as she wasn't much of a writer, preferring to see and hear someone. But she knew Richard appreciated her efforts.

She'd expected he'd be gone a few weeks, maybe a month. And he seemed quite homesick, at first. A month passed, and she started wondering when he'd return. After six weeks, his letters home noted he'd be coming back soon. He thought he had enough background for his new character, a man of action he was calling Derrick Storm. Martha was thrilled, missing him more than she'd thought possible.

Then, something changed. She got a call, an _actual_ _phone call_, from him around the two month mark. He'd taken a job! On a _ship_, no less. He'd tried reassuring her that it was for more character research, but she couldn't fathom his reasoning. He was working as a common laborer. There was nothing wrong with the job itself, she just didn't understand why Richard felt the need to do such hard work.

His letters were by necessity less frequent, though longer. As a consummate story teller, he painted life on the ship with such marvelous descriptions that she felt like she was there in the middle of the ocean with them. It was clear that he revered and respected the captain, Anapa, and his wife, Hina. They shone through Richard's letters as decent, caring people.

Now that she'd had a chance to read Richard's depiction of his last days on the ship and his subsequent survival, Martha realized just how great a role that relationship had played in her son's life. He'd learned the skills necessary to survive directly from Anapa and Hina. She hadn't been able to meet the captain in person. There had been complications from his broken leg, and he had died on the island where they'd sought medical care for him. Martha had been too wrapped up in her own grief at the time to pay much attention.

She had no idea what had happened to Hina, though the absence of her name in all the communications with Afaitu made Martha suspicious Hina had also passed on. Or was not capable of participating in the quest to free Richard.

Sighing, she glanced back at the lap top in front of her, full of Richard's story. She knew what came next; not the details, but the emotions that the date of January ninth brought to the surviving members of the Beckett family. Martha happened to seek out Jim around this same time. She'd known his daughter had been lost on the ship along with Richard, yet she hadn't seen him in Papeete when she'd traveled there seeking answers.

Thinking it odd that he'd ignored the loss of his only child, Martha had tracked him down. Wondering if he somehow didn't know, or was physically incapable of traveling. She'd found her first supposition wrong and the second true. Not due to a handicap or physical limitation. The man was drunk out of his mind.

Martha hadn't realized until weeks later that Johanna's death had occurred nearly one year to the day that she found Jim Beckett passed out on the floor of his living room. Through the following years, as she cheered his recovery and his re-entry back into the world, she marveled that he'd survived the loss of the two most important people in his life. He struggled; both he and Martha no longer celebrated much for the holidays. The kids had been lost just after Thanksgiving, and Christmas no longer felt like a time to rejoice when your only child was lost at sea, presumed dead. For Jim, Christmas was doubly agonizing, with the date of January ninth looming over everything.

No, the end of the old year and the start of the new was not an easy time for either Martha or Jim. And she knew without a doubt that this first anniversary of Johanna's murder, that period of time that Richard was writing about, was going to be very difficult. For both he and Katie. Her son was such a great storyteller, she felt like she was reliving it all one more time.

Looking at her watch, she saw there were still hours to go in the flight. She turned back to the screen. It would not be easy to read about, but in the end she would have some insight into how the two of them had managed to survive together for so long.

* * *

January, 2000

Rick jumped up, looking around the tent wildly. Where could she have gone? He crawled out of the tarps, only to realize it wasn't just raining. It was pouring. Hard. It was too dark to see much, and the added deluge didn't help matters. She wasn't in the kitchen area. He wondered then if she'd simply needed to use the outhouse. He made his way slowly though the clearing of their future home, then found the newly built path on the far side.

Never gladder of the bamboo trail he'd laid a few days ago, he followed the handrail and bamboo floor tiles to the outhouse. It was empty. He felt his gut clench. He knew what day it was, knew she was hurting. He didn't think she was suicidal, but Kate played things close to the vest.

Turning around, he made his way back to the pergola. She was still missing. Remembering that she'd run to the beach by the lake the other times she'd been emotionally overwhelmed, he decided to look there next.

He nearly stumbled over her; she was huddled in a tight ball, almost invisible in the rain.

"Kate? What are you doing out here?" he shouted, trying to be heard over the downpour.

There was no answer, no movement. He couldn't see her face, she was coiled so tightly around herself.

"Kate!" He reached down to touch her, but she still was motionless. He squeezed his fingers between her chin and chest; not an easy task due to how stiffly she was curled. To his profound relief, she had a pulse. Though it was racing. He wondered if somehow she was in the throes of a nightmare.

He tried shaking her, calling her name again and again. Nothing seemed to penetrate. It was as if she were a turtle, wrapped imperviously in her shell. Or a pill bug that had been poked a few too many times. He knew he couldn't leave her out in the rain, so he carefully scooped her up in his arms and made the long slog back to the pergola.

Once he got her out of the rain, he tried again to get her to respond to him. Nothing he did seemed to work, though he soon saw she was shaking with the cold. He dug through the pile of linens and towels they'd brought with them from the ship. Most of them were damp; it was impossible to keep them dry with the high humidity and near constant rain. But, they were better than nothing.

He started drying her off, but it wasn't much help with her wet clothes still on. Sitting back on his heels, he considered his options. She was shivering. She was wet, and needed to be dried off. There was no way to build a fire under the tarp, and having one outside would be useless, if not impossible. Once again he cursed the fact that they had no permanent shelter, and mentally reminded himself he still needed to completely roof the area of the kitchen over the firepit.

She would likely be quite angry at him if he took her clothes off, but the thought of her suffering so deeply that she didn't realize what was even happening to her physically shook him. He'd come to care a lot about Kate, and for the first time in his life found himself wishing he could take her pain on himself. He'd do anything to make her feel better, even at his own cost. But there was no time to think about the implications of these realizations: he had to act. And if she hated him for undressing her, well, at least he'd know it had been done to help her. To save her.

He carefully peeled off her wet clothes. It wasn't easy, since she was still stiff and unyielding. There was no way he'd be able to dress her in real clothes: her wet, clammy skin made putting anything on impossible. He went for the simple look, wrapping her in one of the spare sheets they'd carefully preserved. It wasn't thick enough to do much for heat conservation, so he then moved her to his mattress.

Peeling off his own wet clothes, he quickly patted his own body dry…well, drier, anyway…and put on a fresh pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He then enveloped her small, cold body with his, wrapping his arms around her and trying to transfer as much of his heat to her. As he lay there, his contemplated his earlier thoughts about how he really felt about her.

He'd never met anyone like Kate Beckett. She was young, but there was a maturity there that people ten years older lacked. Undoubtedly, it was due in no small part to the event that had irrevocably changed her life a year ago to the day. She'd been deeply battered and bruised over her mother's murder, the lack of progress on solving it, and her father's alcoholism. But she still fought on, still kept swinging.

Then she'd found herself deliberately locked inside a sinking ship by a snake after she rejected his unwanted sexual advances. Many people would have given in to despair at that point, but Kate had trudged on, proving herself beyond measure when Rick had found her and they'd worked together to escape the doomed _Iriata_.

Stranded on an island with no modern conveniences, she'd worked as hard as he had to survive, carve a life out of the jungle. All this despite the fact that the day that marked one year since she'd last seen her mother loomed over her. Rick had seen the weight of her grief; it was impossible for her to hide it, and she'd broken down several times. He marveled that she'd felt comfortable enough to confide in him. It had brought them closer than ever.

And now, after finding her curled up in the rain, he realized he loved her. Deeply, unequivocally loved her. This wasn't anything like what he'd felt for Meredith; that had been lust, coupled with the desire to have a family. Even his relationship with Kyra, who he'd always considered to be his long lost true love, paled in comparison to what he felt for Kate.

He admired her: she soldiered beside him, doing work she'd never done before without complaint. He respected her: she was the most intelligent woman he'd ever talked to, and could banter with him without resorting to trite comments. He grieved for her: the intense pain she'd borne over the last year would have put most people into a deep depression. He liked her: he enjoyed spending time with her, being in her company. He cared for her: he would willingly carry any and all of her torments.

These weren't feelings he'd ever had for another person, which ultimately led to the realization that he loved her. He would sacrifice himself to keep her safe. Would walk away from her if it meant she would be happy without him. He finally knew what true love meant; every other relationship with a woman had been a mere infatuation. And as her shivering abated with his body wrapped around her, he slipped back into sleep, thrilled he could play a small part in comforting her on this day.

* * *

Kate was drowning. Absence of light added to the terror. She was bone-chillingly cold and the only feeling outside of her fear was that of water: surrounding her, seeping into her pores and all of her orifices. She didn't know which way to turn, where to seek shelter. It was as though she were held in place by some unseen force; though she struggled to move, it was in vain.

Just as she was about to succumb to the black water, she felt a warmth steal about her. The water stopped pouring in as rapidly, then even the small trickle it had been reduced to stopped as well. She was still cold, but the panic over drowning receded. Next, warmth crept over her whole body. Soon it felt as though she was lying next to a heater, and it chased out the glacial congelation that had replaced the blood in her veins. She welcomed the inferno, gave herself over to the fire to be consumed by the heat, instead of immersed in the frigid depths. Her last thought was to wonder if she was perhaps meant to be a phoenix. And to hope she'd be reborn stronger the next time.

* * *

Several hours later, Kate stirred languidly. She was pinned under a heavy, warm weight. If it had been a hard surface, she might have envisioned she was a lizard basking under the heat radiating from bricks baked in the sun. But this surface was too soft to be made of bricks.

She wriggled, just a bit and heard a grunt. Realization flooded her as she recognized that she was captured in the embrace of a person. And given there was only one person on the island with her, it didn't take any of her nascent detective skills to figure out who it was. Yet, any indignation she might have raised against Rick for his temerity was quickly doused by her next realization.

What the date was today.

The ninth of January.

Johanna was dead.

One year.

Today.

* * *

A keening wail awoke Rick. He thought Kate was having a nightmare until he felt her melting into him, instead of thrashing about.

"Kate? It's okay, I've got you," he crooned, holding her tighter.

Kate cried harder, but allowed him to pull her into his body. He felt like an anchor in a storm tossed sea, and she craved the stability he provided.

"She's really gone," she sobbed. "I miss her so much."

"I know, Kate, I know," he soothed, stroking her hair and just hoping he was _something_ of a comfort to her. Someone who helped by _being_ there for her.

"I wish she was here, wish that I could talk to her. Even for a day," she stuttered out between wracking sobs.

"What would you tell her?"

"That I, I—love her. So much. I didn't tell her that enough."

"Oh, Kate. I think we all forget to say things like that to the people we love. But she knew it, she did. You showed her how much you loved her."

"How? How would you know what I showed her?"

"Well, you were going to school to become a lawyer, just like her. I'll bet she was so proud of you, going to Stanford. Wanting to do the same thing she did."

"She was. Proud of me."

"See, she knew you loved her. You don't have to say it, for someone to know it."

"But I wish I had said it. And spent more time with her. God, Rick, half the time during that break was spent with friends. I wanted to see all the people from high school that I left behind, but I didn't know she'd be leaving _me_ behind. Why did she die? It's my fault," she cried, her sobs more forceful as she let guilt wash over her for ignoring her parents during her winter break.

"Kate, it's not your fault she died. Why would you even think that?"

"If I'd spent more time with her, maybe she wouldn't have ever been in that alley."

"No, Kate, no. You don't know that. You didn't cause her death. It's not your fault."

She cried for her mother. Cried for her father. Cried for herself.

He held her tight through it all, until she'd cried for so long, all that was left were some gasping sobs. He kept stroking her hair through it all, remembering the comfort the arms of his own mother had provided to him when he'd been hurt by the world at large.

Sensing the worst of her tears were past, he ventured a question into the quiet morning.

"Do you need anything? Want something to eat, or to drink?"

"No, not right now," she quavered. "Just hold me, like you've been doing."

"No problem," he reassured. Thanked the heavens above she wasn't trying to run from him. That she wanted to be in his arms.

He held her for another ten minutes or more. Thinking perhaps she'd cried so hard that she'd fallen asleep in exhaustion. He discovered he was wrong when he tried to reposition their bodies, as his arm was falling asleep underneath her.

"Do you need to get up?" she whispered, voice hoarse.

"No, just moving so I can hold you better."

"Thank you, Rick, for all that you've done for me."

"It's not a problem, Kate. You'd do the same for me."

"Would I? I don't know. I'm much more reserved than you are."

"Yes, that's true. But your empathy overcomes any reserve you might have. I've not known you for very long, but I've seen you with Hina, and with Anapa after his accident. You have a remarkable talent for helping people, Kate Beckett. So, I know you'd do the same for me, because I've already seen you in action."

"I—I'd forgotten about that."

"You've had a lot on your mind lately."

"I'm so scared I'm going to forget," she whispered, voice barely audible even in the close confines of the tent.

"You'll never forget her, Kate."

"No, I didn't mean…I didn't mean I'd forget her as a person. As my mom. But I'm terrified I'll forget what her voice sounded like. How she smelled of her favorite perfume, Eternity, when she dressed up. But that her normal smell was a mixture of her lotion, dish soap and lavender from her shampoo. How she had to brush and braid her hair every night to control its tendency to frizz in the morning."

She paused, and he just squeezed her tighter, trying to relay his comfort in his touch. She continued her whispered comments a few seconds later.

"How it felt for her to hold my hand in her hand. What her lips felt like when she kissed me on the cheek. What her eyes looked like when she laughed at something silly that I said."

Rick swallowed with difficulty, a huge lump in his throat as she listed her fears. He hoped he could find the right words to offer her some meager solace.

"With time, there may be some things you forget to think about. But all it takes is a whiff of a smell, and you'll think of her. Or you'll hear someone laugh, and it will sound like her. There will be a thousand little things that make you think of her. There's no danger you'll ever forget her, Kate. She'll always be waiting, in the sound of a child playing or the smell of a flower as you pass by. She's still with you here," he said, touching her head gently, "and here," as he moved his hand down to her chest.

"How can I hear a child playing or someone laughing? We're stuck on this island, remember?"

"You don't think we'll always be here, do you? Someone will find us. But until then, let me be the one to remind you. I can hold your hand when you need it held; hug you when you need a hug. I'll help you remember."

She didn't say anything; didn't need to as he watched tears gather in her eyes once more. She simply scooted into his arms again and let him hold her while she cried for what she had lost…and for what she had found.

* * *

**Love to hear your thoughts. **


	27. Chapter 27

**This chapter is dedicated to Sanctuaria. Frequent voice of support through PMs and reviews of this story. Love the kind words, as Sanctuaria is also an accomplished author, with multiple published works on FFnet. Thanks so much for all the encouragement!**

* * *

April, 2010

Jim snapped the laptop shut, breathing heavily and fighting tears. He couldn't keep reading, not after experiencing Katie's struggle with her mother's death as if he were with her. Richard's words were so powerful, and the matter so disturbing, that he was on the cusp of losing any of the little control he'd had since learning his beloved daughter was alive.

"Jim? What is it?"

His wife's voice settled him somewhat, forced him to focus on matters unrelated to a desert island in the South Pacific. He looked up at her, wiped his eyes and gave her a watery smile.

"Is there news about Katie?" Celeste asked. She was a petite woman, thin with blond hair that was her natural color, augmented now with the help of regular coloring appointments. She was a few years younger than him, and in appearance quite unlike Johanna.

"What is it?" she repeated, walking over to sit down beside him on the couch. He clutched her hand to his, then leaned over and gave her a kiss. It served to give him the strength to compose himself and talk to his wife.

"I was trying to catch up on Richard's story."

"Oh, they uploaded more chapters?"

"Yes, a day or so ago. I hadn't had a chance to read them until this afternoon."

"Did something happen to Katie? What's upset you so much?"

"He's writing about January."

She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"January, 2000."

"Oh," she whispered, then reached over to wrap both arms around his neck, leaning her torso on his chest and resting her head on his shoulder. "He's writing about Katie?"

"Yes."

"I take it she struggled quite a bit with her mother's death, just like you?"

He nodded, then started sobbing. He held her tight to him and cried into her hair. His daughter had been through so much. And he? He had given up on her. He'd lost her well before she was lost to the rest of the world.

Celeste shifted, once his sobs had slowed, and moved so that he was now resting on her. She was running her fingers through his short, grey hair with one hand and rubbing comforting patterns on his back with the other. When she thought he was able to listen once more, she spoke again. "Do you want to talk about it some more?"

He did, and he didn't. Celeste knew all about his past; the loss of his wife and daughter. His alcoholism. Suicidal ideations that came after finding out from a reporter on his porch that Katie was dead, drowned in a vast ocean far from home. He'd told it all to her, once she'd managed to penetrate the haze of grief that he held tight to his body. It had been his shield, preventing every other living person from piercing it and making him _feel_ once more.

He'd never wanted to experience an emotion more forceful than apathy ever again, after their deaths. He would have gladly traded in whatever magic beans were needed to become a wooden automaton, content to live his life without any vexatious emotions, like happiness. Happiness was just a step from grief.

Being a terrific manager actually required that one separate oneself from one's emotions. It helped tremendously with negotiations if one didn't have any sentimental investment in the project. Thus, his new professional career once he was sober—negotiating for Martha Rodgers' suddenly prominent services—was benefited by his lack of feeling.

Unbeknownst to him, he'd caught the eye of Martha's new personal assistant, Celeste Hanlin. She'd been concerned initially, that Martha would trust a man who seemed as dead on the inside as he was on the outside. A man who had only been sober for a few months when Martha first offered to have him represent her for a part in a Broadway production that she had been offered. It was her first major role after the loss of her son and her nasty divorce from her second husband.

But Jim had been marvelous in the contract discussions; his knowledge of the law certainly a huge plus in his new career. And Celeste had been drawn to him. She knew, having spent so much time with Martha, that his daughter, Katie, had been lost in the same shipwreck as Martha's son, Richard. She soon learned from Martha herself that this wasn't the extent of his tragedies, that his wife had been murdered nearly a year before his daughter was lost at sea. It was no wonder that the man had locked himself away, emotionally.

She felt badly for him, but was also drawn to him; they both shared some similarities. Her first husband had also perished, in a car wreck six years earlier. It had left Celeste with severe injuries, and she'd also had to battle back from the physical scars to re-enter the bright world once more. Yet, there the commonalities ceased. Her first husband had been abusive, both emotionally and physically. She'd remained with him, cowed by his constant haranguing of her numerous faults and out of concern as to what would happen to their two boys if she left him.

Their youngest had just graduated from high school when she decided it was time to finally break free of her husband. Living alone with him was not an option; he'd learned to restrain himself a good deal once the boys were old enough to object to his overt abuse of their mother. She'd just argued with him right before the car wreck; told him she was leaving. He'd become quite angry, and a large part of her was convinced that he wrecked the car purposefully after it was clear she wasn't staying with him. They'd been arguing, and he was driving very erratically as they approached the bridge abutment.

After recovering physically, she'd been at a loss as to what to do with herself. She'd never held a job: her dead husband had earned a good living. She'd married him quite young—the first man to really pay her any attention, and she'd been pregnant before she realized what _kind_ of man she'd married. From there it was twenty years of being bludgeoned by his fists and his opinion of her before she found herself with a clean slate and a fresh start.

Always a well-organized person, she lucked into a job with a relatively rich older woman, who came to value her executive abilities very highly. When the woman decided to move to California, in order to be closer to her grandchildren, she gave Celeste a glowing reference, which had eventually landed her the job as the personal assistant to an up and coming actress, Martha Rodgers.

She'd loved working for Martha. The woman was in the middle of a divorce, had just lost her son, her only child. She was lost, and all of Celeste's motherly instincts had an immediate outlet, never mind that she was a few years younger than Martha. She'd been a rock for her new boss, who in turn had taken Jim Beckett under her wing.

And once she'd learned that he truly was an honorable man with a tragic past that would bury nearly everyone else, Celeste had become friends with him as well. From there, it had been a matter of learning to trust one another. She had been extremely cautious of men in general, and that fear had become evident even to one as emotionally reserved as Jim Beckett.

It was his observation that she was afraid of men that cracked his emotional aloofness. Curious about the feelings of someone for the first time since he'd been told Katie was gone. They were forced to work together, sharing the same boss and all. Slowly, glacially at times, they opened up to each other. And they'd found love. She for the first time, in a romantic partner. He for the second time.

He'd never thought it possible to love another. Had been afraid that to make the attempt meant a betrayal of Johanna's memory. Celeste had helped him learn that she would never take the place of Johanna in his heart; he'd just grown a bigger heart to accommodate Celeste, and her boys, inside with Johanna and Katie. Apparently, there was no limit to how many people you could love, if you just opened yourself to the idea.

Now, his heart was bigger than it had ever been. Both of Celeste's sons, Nicholas and Michael, had married lovely girls and started their own families. Nicholas and Karla had Kelly and Noah, aged 3 years and 12 months. Michael and Brandy had just had little Emily about 6 months ago. Both boys lived in the greater New York area, and had welcomed Jim into the fold after seeing how happy he made their mother. He'd come to regard them as his own, and vice versa. Kelly called him "Gwampa" and Nicholas and Karla had even taught her to recognize a picture of her 'Aunt' Katie. It had made Jim's heart swell, both in pain and in love.

They hadn't told the boys yet about Richard's declarations regarding Katie's status. For multiple reasons. One, it had to be kept secret; both Celeste and Jim understood, to some degree, that Afaitu had been terrified of anyone in Tahiti finding out. Once they learned what Grollet had to lose, they'd agreed secrecy was critical. Neither of the boys would do anything to hurt the stepsister they'd never met, but it was simply too easy for something to be said in innocence yet leading to disaster.

Secondly, they didn't even know where Katie was right now. Richard hadn't seen her for five months, now. Jim didn't want to speculate on anything bad happening to his daughter, not while she was on the cusp of being returned to him. Yet, he had to be realistic. Any number of things might have happened to her while Richard was drifting alone at sea. She had no one to help her, no one to look after her.

"Jim?" Celeste's voice brought him back to the present. "What does Richard say about Katie that upset you so much?"

"She was so sad; hurting so much. I let her down, Celeste. So badly."

"You were hurting, too."

"But I should have been there for her. I was her father, for God's sake."

"You can't blame yourself for that, not now. It's all in the past."

"I was at fault. I left her all alone; worse I made her try and take care of me, too. What kind of man does that to their nineteen year old daughter?"

"You'd lost your rock; your touchstone. You didn't know what to do, and you took an easy way out of the pain. But you came back from it. This is all ancient history, Jim."

"It was too late for her, though. She has no idea what kind of man I am now, how sorry I am for all that she went through without me."

"Well, you'll just have to show her, tell her, when she comes back to us," Celeste soothed.

"What if she doesn't want to see me? Doesn't want anything to do with me? She left here, hating me."

"I think, after ten years, she'll know that a lot could have changed. Has changed. To you and to her. I don't know her, only what you've told me of her. But I highly doubt that she'll reject you out of hand. Just give her a chance. You'll both have to be patient with each other. In many ways, you'll be total strangers meeting."

Jim sighed. It was so daunting, but so thrilling to think about. He'd never dreamed that this moment would come, so close now that he could almost taste it. His daughter, his Katie.

"Now, let me read what you've read up to, then we'll read the rest together. Ok?" she asked, planting a kiss on his cheek.

He looked at her, giving thanks he'd found a way to let her in those years ago. "I love you, Celeste."

"And I love you too, Jim. Now, let me do some reading."

He stood, going into the kitchen to fix them both some lemonade while she read. Checking his phone, he saw he'd had a text from Nicholas, asking if he and Celeste would be willing to babysit the kids overnight that Friday: he was planning a surprise for Karla. Jim grinned, excited by the prospect of having the two grandkids running wild around the house, and texted back an emphatic 'yes' to his stepson. It would be so good, for both of them, to be able to forget all the emotional drama the last week had delivered for a little while.

Returning to the living room, he found his wife was ready to read the next part with him. She had some tears of her own trickling down from her eyes, so he knew that Richard's words had affected her nearly as much as they had affected him. He lightened the mood a bit, telling her they got to play host to Kelly and Noah on Friday, then together they turned their attention back to the laptop and the story of Richard and Katie, all those years ago.

* * *

January, 2000

"Do you have everything?" he asked, anxious to be going. "We're going to get a late start if you keep lollygagging about."

"I think so. And I'm not lollygagging. I'm packing, but I just finished. What about you?"

"I was born ready," he declared, puffing out his chest.

She rolled her eyes, letting out a huff. "Really? Sure about that, Born Ready?"

He mentally ran through everything he wanted to bring, confident he had it all piled down by the canoe, ready to go. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"So, you mean to say that you're going to wear the same clothes all three or four days that we'll be gone?"

Huh? Oh. Shit. "Uh, no. No, I'm not."

"So why is it that all your clothes are still piled in the tent? Where I piled them, I might add, so I know you haven't touched them. Hmm?"

"I wasn't going to take those clothes," he blustered. He wasn't going to get out of this one, but it was worth the try.

"If you're not taking those clothes, which by the way are your only clothes besides what you're wearing, then what is it you're going to wear, exactly?"

"That's just the point, Kate. I'm returning to the natural state. No clothes, just me, hanging free and wild like I was meant to be."

"Oh, no you're not," she exclaimed. "Not a chance. Just because you took liberties with my clothes doesn't mean I'm ok with you prancing around naked."

He knew she was referring to the moment she finally figured out she was naked under the sheet on January 9th. It hadn't been a particularly pretty moment, though not as bad as it might have been. She'd been too upset about the date and all it's meaning to really lay into him. However, she did keep bringing it up as ammo in their frequent…arguments. Or bantering. Or needling. He couldn't name exactly what they did. He just knew he enjoyed the snap of her wit against his.

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, I am NOT going to nurse any cuts or bruises you'd get to your 'wild side'. Cuts that are inevitable on the coral in the lagoon, I might add. And for another, I don't have any sunglasses, so there."

He wouldn't mind her nursing any part of his 'wild side', but the sunglasses comment made no sense. "What does not having sunglasses have to do with anything?"

"It's a small beach Rick."

"Yeeeaaahhh?"

"It's a small, very sunny beach."

"I'm still not buying what you're selling."

"I won't have any place to escape the glare from your skinny white ass if you're walking around naked. I'll be blinded."

"Har, har, very funny Kate. Fine," he puffed, as dramatic as his mother when he wanted to be, "I'll bring some clothes. Wouldn't want to offend your _sensibilities_."

* * *

They were in the canoe, paddling for the ocean within a half hour. It was January 14th, and they were headed out to the beach outside the island to make salt, catch fish, and do anything else that came to mind.

Rick felt they were pretty prepared for the expedition. They were taking some bamboo, which was trailing behind them in the water, to construct a better shelter. They had the tarps they needed, the cooking pots and pans with their lids, more bamboo to use as a drying rack for the fish, their knives, and some sheets to use as filters for the seawater. They had their bucket and some gourds and baskets that Kate had waterproofed. And clothes. For some reason.

The days after January ninth had wrought a marked change in Kate. She was much happier, much more demonstrative with him. Not flirty or vulgar, just more open with him. Friendly. After that awful morning, when she'd been missing, she hadn't really left his side for any length of time. Not that he was complaining.

They'd spent the last several days in the agonizing labor of clearing a straight path from the lake shore to the giant bamboo grove. Rick had never been so thankful for something as simple as the sharpening stone he'd found with the tools in the boat. He'd had to sharpen their machetes daily while they hacked their way through the jungle. The work wasn't done yet, but they'd made progress.

Ready for a break from the hard labor, they'd welcomed the sight of the waxing moon, waiting for a neap tide so they'd be as safe as possible from the high tide mark. It was time to take their salt making, fish catching trip for a few days. There wasn't much to do to prepare Pereora for their absence. The chickens didn't need them, and they'd decided to let the hens brood the eggs they'd miss while gone, to start to replace the few they'd eaten.

They were at the beach within thirty minutes from leaving. Once again there was absolutely no sign of any ships. It really did feel like they were the last two people on earth, sometimes. Beaching the canoe, Rick helped Kate unload everything and carry the camping items up past the high tide mark. His first task was to construct the shelter. They'd brought some homemade rope, now having quite a stock going.

Kate hadn't ever directly seen him building with the bamboo, so he took the time to show her how to fit the pieces together with his x-gouge system and rope. First, he took his large knife, the piece of bamboo he was working with, and a 'baton' made of a piece of hard candlenut wood. He placed the bamboo on a handy rock, and positioned his knife on one end angled across the bamboo, sharp end down of course. He then struck the top of the knife with the baton with one hard blow, so that the knife was buried into the bamboo with a nice deep cut. He then removed the knife and repositioned the blade so it formed an 'X' over the previous cut, and repeated the process. This left a large 'X' cut into the end of the bamboo.

The next step was to add a shorter cut across two opposite ends of the 'X' making it appear like an hourglass. He then chiseled out the wood between the two newly formed triangles; since it was bamboo, he was left with two triangular shaped holes, with the apices touching each other. He repeated this process for all the pieces that would be fitted perpendicularly to each other, then buried the vertical poles as deeply as possible in the sand. Taking up the pieces intended to cross with them, he simply fitted the two 'X's together; they then stuck to each other a bit like a Lincoln log or a Lego. The last step was to bind them tightly together with the rope. In the end, it was a quite sturdy structure.

This method had been how he'd built all of their permanent buildings so far. However, he knew this shelter wouldn't last long, exposed to the higher wind gusts directly from the ocean, as well as the tidal forces. They planned to dismantle it when they left, and place the bamboo pieces as high up the beach as possible, next to the cliff walls. Hopefully, they could simply rebuild it whenever they came back and spent the night outside of the island interior.

The frame went up very quickly with Kate's help, and they finished it off by tying the tarps to the roof, careful to leave the walls open in the strong sun.

"Well, now when it rains, we'll be snug as bugs," Rick proclaimed with a satisfied air.

"It will definitely beat the last time we were here," Kate said, smiling at him.

"Ok, shall we get the fire going and start in on the salt making?"

"Sure. Do we need to do anything to the fire pit that we made last time we stayed?"

Rick looked it over. "No, I think we're good. We'll need to boil the water in our largest pot, so we'll just use that flat rock there," he said pointing to a large, flat rock they'd used as a griddle last visit, "and put the pot on it to simmer."

"Sounds like we'll need a lot of wood."

"Uh, yeah. Luckily there's a bunch of driftwood; enough I think to suffice for the whole time. I'm glad I won't have to chop down any trees. I'm heartily sick of my axe."

"Aww, poor Ricky. Not a burly lumberjack?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" He stopped and flexed for her. Instead of laughing, like he'd expected, she suddenly turned red and spun around to start gathering the wood.

"Kate? What'd I do?"

"No-nothing. I just thought we needed to get started on the fire."

"Well, sure. Ok."

They didn't talk much after that, busy gathering supplies. Rick took the bucket down to the shore once he had the fire going. Bringing it back full of water, he took one of their sheets and dipped it down into the bucket so that only clear water came through it. He started dipping off the filtered water from the bucket with a clean bottle, emptying it in the big pot, which Kate put on the fire. They soon had the pot full, and covered it with its lid so no contaminants landed in it while it boiled.

"This will take some time, but I'd stir it around periodically. You want it to get to the consistency of sand, then we'll take it off the fire and dip out the wet salt and spread it out in the sun on the clean sheets we brought," he explained.

Kate nodded. "Okay, that makes sense. What should we do next?"

"While we're boiling the water?"

She nodded again.

"Well, I was going to throw up the little bamboo screen we'll use to dry fish on. You want to help?"

"Sure, I want to see how this all goes together."

It took little time, as this was a much lighter structure and didn't need the engineering that a shelter did. They just tied the pieces together. It looked like a bit like a portion of a fence, with two outside vertical poles, joined by multiple horizontal poles running between them.

"Now that this is done, I'm going to go try my luck fishing. You okay with the salt?" he asked, excited to try out the net he'd tied together over the last week after dinner.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll do some shell and crab hunting while you're out there reeling in the catch of the day."

"Alright. Just yell or wave something to get my attention if you need anything."

"I'll be fine, Rick. Now go on, catch us some fish." She gave him a little shove and he pretended to fall backwards. She laughed at him, and he jogged off to the canoe.

Once out in the lagoon, he started setting out his net. It was made so smaller fish would swim out of it, but it would hold larger ones. He waded out until he was up to his chest in the water. The shore here sloped pretty gently, so he was able to go out further than he'd expected. He'd tied bamboo pieces along the top edges of the net, to act as floats, and rocks along the bottom. Once the net was completely spread out, he started slowly walking backwards to shore pulling the net gently towards him with two long ropes attached to the two ends.

It was essentially a seine net, and he'd only had enough time to make it five feet high by twelve to fifteen feet long. He wasn't sure how big a net he could handle alone, nor how many fish he'd capture this way. He started getting concerned when he was halfway back and there was no real pull to the lines. His disappointment was complete when he pulled the net in all the way once his knees were the only part of him submerged. Nothing. Not one stinking fish.

Never one to give up once he had an idea, he repeated the process. Unfortunately with the same result. He couldn't understand it; he could see fish swimming everywhere in the lagoon. Many were too big to be able to swim through the net. Though….maybe he was going too slowly, too deliberately. Maybe the fish were smarter than he was, and were simply swimming under the net, since it didn't touch bottom.

Energized by the thought, the next trip out found him setting the net then running backwards. Not the best idea if one wanted to look suave and cool for a certain female, which he most assuredly did. However, even more critical for her good opinion was to bring back a bountiful catch. And this time it worked! When he managed to haul the net in to shore, he found it contained a good dozen large fish.

Clubbing them to prevent them from suffering, he repeated the process three more times and then placed them in the net to carry up to the campsite. About an hour had passed, and he saw Kate was standing with her back to him, stirring the salt pot.

"Hey, look what I've got," he said, net full of fish hanging over one shoulder like a very odd Santa with a bulging bag of…fish.

Kate turned, took one look at him and spun away again. It was all very puzzling.

* * *

Kate had spent part of her time hunting shells, and part walking back and forth from the shore to check on the salt. She kept an eye on Rick initially, worried he was walking out so deeply into the ocean. He'd been so excited about the net he'd tied together over the last week.

Sadly, his excitement didn't seem to be translating into success. Shaking her head, she refused to watch him any longer. Because he was goofy, not because she was finding it hard to ignore the sight of his well-muscled chest, bare now that he was out fishing. No, that was not the reason. Good lord, how great his biceps had looked when he'd flexed for her earlier, messing around. Her visceral reaction had embarrassed her, so she'd turned away. The man was vexing…wasn't he?

An hour or so later she was back at the fire, stirring the pot. Due to the sound of the waves, she didn't hear him approaching her, or else she would have been prepared for him walking back. Alas, the first she knew he was behind her was when he was already there; she could feel his presence even before he opened his mouth and said something to her.

"Hey, look what I've got," he exclaimed.

She turned to look and felt heat flood her abdomen. He was standing in front of her, still shirtless, with the bulging net thrown over one shoulder. His skin was still wet, droplets of water slowly tracing their way over his taut muscles. Slowly dribbling lazy paths lower and lower from chiseled pecs to his washboard abs, until finally disappearing into the unseen depths of his shorts.

She spun back around, heart racing and breathing already erratic. This was impossible. At least inside the island, there was room to escape from him when she needed to be alone. How the hell was she going to survive three days with him like this?

* * *

**Pictures of the X gouge system and the firebow (bowdrill) are on tumblr, but they come from the Hedgehog Leatherworks site. **

**Thank you all so much for any reviews/PMs that you send my way. Love hearing from you! For the guest review that said you needed to go call your mom after reading the last chapter: thank you! That made my day.  
**


	28. Chapter 28

**This chapter is dedicated to fembot79. I thank twitter every day that I joined and became twitter pals with her; she is absolutely hilarious. And an awesome person. Absolutely guaranteed to make a Castle episode even more interesting with her unique perspective and rapier wit. I love her perspectives on events, and hope she continues to share her viewpoint for many more years with all of us.**

* * *

January, 2000

"Kate? What's wrong?" This was the second time she'd acted like the very sight of him was revolting. He had no idea what he was doing, but he wanted to know so he could stop it. Whatever _it_ was.

She pivoted slowly back to face him, fake smile now plastered on her face. He could tell the difference.

"Nothing, Rick. I'm fine. Just caught me off guard with that haul of fish, that's all."

"Oh, yeah," he happily crowed. "I had a little trouble at first, but I got the hang of it pretty quickly. Just look at these beauties!" He swung the net around, while Kate studiously avoided watching his muscles flex and stretch with the movement. She didn't see a thing. Not his biceps bulging, or the impressive deltoids shrugging off the burden. Nothing. Of. The. Kind. Seen. At. All.

"That is impressive," she said, distracted. Since she wasn't looking at the fish, it simply confused Rick even more.

"Are you sure you're okay? Did you get stung by any jellyfish or step on an anemone when you were walking along the shore?" he worried, looking over her legs for any tell-tale red marks.

"No, no nothing like that. Sorry, I just have a bit of a headache," she lied. Well, she was dizzy, though not because she was ill. '_Get a hold of yourself, Kate!_' she told herself sternly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't think we brought anything for headaches, did we?"

"It's ok, Rick. Really, I'll be fine. It's not too bad."

"Well, maybe you should rest in the shade for a while. I can watch the salt."

"No, it's really fine. I'm good. Should we start cleaning the fish?"

He looked at her speculatively. Seeing nothing to truly concern him, he nodded. They both had filleting knives that Rick kept in meticulous shape. Dividing up the catch, they cleaned, washed and filleted the prized haul, cutting them in half but leaving the tail intact so they could be hung over the poles of the drying rack. There was a small fire burning nearby, made quite smoky by the addition of various greenery, keeping flies and birds away.

Rick collected all the offal in a basket and disposed of it at one end of the beach, leaving it for the numerous waterfowl that roosted in the island cliffs' cracks and crevices. Kate turned her attention back to the boiling pot of water, determined not to watch him walking back and forth. No matter how much the idea attracted her.

"How's the salt making going?" he asked after returning to the campsite, watching as Kate peered in the pot once more, giving the interior a few desultory stirs.

"I think it's about ready for the sun. What do you think?"

He took the spoon from her and stirred. "Yeah, this is about right. Let's go spread it out."

He carried to pot to a sheet they'd laid on top of a flat rock. Kate emptied the pot onto the sheet, trying to keep everything evenly distributed in the hot sunshine. The remaining water would evaporate in the heat, leaving behind the desired salt crystals.

"You okay taking over from here?" Rick asked from behind her, making her startle once again. "I refilled the bucket with fresh seawater, so you're already to go for the next round," he said, slowly, watching her with evident unease.

"Look, Kate, I can see something's wrong. You're not acting yourself. Why don't you go rest, and I'll take over the salt making for a while. We've got enough fish for this first trip."

Kate closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She knew she wasn't ill, but she was feeling a bit desperate to get away from him and just _think_. She couldn't understand her reactions, and wouldn't be able to sort it out if he kept sneaking up on her and staggering her with his physical _presence_.

"Actually, Rick, I don't think I'd mind lying down for a bit. Do we have any extra water?"

"Of course."

He unexpectedly reached an arm out, touching her forehead. She felt a shock go through her; this had happened when he'd touched her before, but never as strongly.

"Jeez, Kate. You're burning up. You've got a fever! Maybe you're getting sick."

She felt the flaming heat crawling up her cheeks. It was a fever alright. But she wasn't sick.

"It's probably the sun, coupled with bending over a boiling pot for the last few hours. Once I lay down, I bet I'll be fine." More lies. Though she hoped the last statement was the truth.

"Ok," he said, doubtfully. "Just let me know if you need anything."

"Oh, I will Rick. I will." She colored further, having not intended for that to sound quite the way it did. Hoping he hadn't caught it, she strolled off to the trees near the cliff base, bottle in hand. Some cooler temperatures would be welcome, both internally and externally.

* * *

Choosing a comfortable looking stretch of shaded sand, Kate sat down, leaning her back against the palm trunk behind her. Alone at last, it was time to try and sort out her reactions to the man. Time to stop lying to herself that she was inured to his presence. She wasn't. Today had proved that in spades.

So, what was it about him that so disrupted her usual equilibrium? She was certainly attracted to him. Who wouldn't be? She'd thought he was good looking from the first time she'd laid eyes on him. Now that they'd been stranded together, and been required to work their fingers to the bone just to survive, his already well defined body had morphed into something a Renaissance sculptor might have copied to represent a Greek god.

But, she'd seen plenty of good looking men. Maybe none quite as attractive as Rick, with his perfectly cut shoulders that led to those delicious biceps. His incredible pecs that inevitably led the eyes down to those unbelievable abs. His legs were….

"Stop it!" she admonished out loud, tensing her body and sitting forward. She was truly losing it, talking out loud to herself.

"Ok, Kate. You have to stop thinking about his body, and figure out why you're reacting this way _now_, of all times. I mean, we've been thrown together for almost two months now, and you didn't have this…_proclivity_…back then." None of the coconuts answered her verbal agitation, so she returned to her silent inquest.

She thought about the past two months, and all the things that they'd been through. In the beginning, she had been at times annoyed by Rick, and at times frustrated with him. But, she'd always had a reaction to him. She'd never been immune. That was certain.

He'd more than proven himself to her after the ship had wrecked and he'd managed to rescue both of them from the sinking ship. The rescue alone was impressive; however their time together since then had elevated him in her eyes beyond measure. His knowledge of the flora of the island and his ability to subsist, if not thrive, in such a harsh environment was, simply put, incredible.

Kate felt that she'd contributed very little to their survival up to this point. Sure, her knowledge of how to dress a chicken had been valuable while attempting to preserve the carcasses of the dead birds on the ship. However, she recognized that Rick undoubtedly would've been able to accomplish the same thing, given time and effort.

Everything else that she had done on the island had been taught to her by Rick. She was now better at making rope, and far better at making baskets. Nonetheless, she knew that if he were alone, he would be nearly as comfortable as he was with her now. Though far lonelier. The man did like to talk. If she had been alone, however, she had no doubt that she would've been dead well before now.

Yet, it wasn't hero worship that had so sharpened her senses to his very being. If that had been the extent of it, she would have had these feelings from the time he'd rescued her. She'd been thankful, no doubt. And glad he knew what he was doing; could build a raft, rough as it had been. Could navigate to a desert island and bend it to his will. No, it was much more than admiration for his accomplishments.

So, she appreciated his physical appearance, but had done so from their first meeting. A time when she'd thought him mentally light in the ballast department. Even when that incorrect assumption was rectified, he'd still needled her. Then, he'd rescued her, saved her from an agonizing death locked in her cabin for who knew how many days before the boat actually sank? Yet he was so much more to her than a simple knight in shining armor.

Lying back against the trunk of the palm, she tried to relax again. Twisting her brain around her confusing feelings was starting to give her a real headache. She closed her eyes and tried to stop thinking about him for a while. As she lay there, a sudden memory of being wrapped in his arms came bubbling up. Gasping, her eyes flew open as she remembered all the sensations that being in his embrace had engendered.

Kindness. Empathy. Caring. Safety. Protection. At one of her most vulnerable times, he had held her tight and kept the demons away, for just a little while. These actions were what truly had made her reevaluate her perception of him.

She'd been nearly overwhelmed with the grief of her mother's death as the anniversary had approached. Every time she'd been ready to retreat into herself, shut out the world completely, he'd been there offering a shoulder to cry on and a hand hold. No one else in her life, even Lanie, had ever been able to reach her in that manner. Her father _should_ have helped her, or at least _tried_, but he sought comfort of a different kind. Kate had ultimately donned a mask to hide behind, and no one had really seen through it until Rick had come along.

She thought then about how he had held her close as she grieved for her mother. He'd been a life preserver after she'd been tossed into a stormy sea. She'd told him earlier that he made her feel safe. Warm. Secure. He was still _all_ of those feelings, but now she realized she was seeing him more as a man than as just a mere friend. A man that she wanted to know much better.

There was no doubt that she could easily fall in love with Rick. She thought he _could_ feel the same about her. He liked to tease her quite frequently, but underlying that there was always a tension roiling off of him; an awareness of her, as a woman. And now she finally realized the disquiet she was feeling around him stemmed from his presence as a man.

However she was at a severe disadvantage, compared to him. He knew most of her story; at least the most important pieces. The part about her mother. The part about her father. She still didn't even know what on earth he was doing in the South Pacific. He'd told her that he would give her his story once they got past January ninth. Well, that cruel date had come and gone. Perhaps it was time to take the opportunity to get to know each other, to learn about the other: thoughts, dreams, as well as their past. After all, they were stuck on a small beach with few jobs to do and a lot of time to spend with each other.

* * *

Rick had spent the time while Kate was resting thinking about why she was acting so weird around him. He hadn't come up with a good explanation by the time she came back, but he was hoping she would feel open enough to talk to him about it.

Fortunately her mood seemed much improved, compared to earlier in the day. She returned just as he was placing the second batch of salt out onto a sheet.

"Hey, how's it going?" she asked, as she strolled up to him.

"I'm fine, but how are you feeling? Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you very much. I really appreciate you letting me rest for a while."

"It's no problem, Kate. I'm just glad you're feeling better."

"Do we have time to make another batch of salt?"

"I think we can start, however we may have to finish it tomorrow."

"Okay, what else do we need to work on today?" she asked him as he finished ladling out the salt.

"There's nothing in particular, but I was thinking about taking a swim in the ocean. Do you want to join me?"

"Well, I _suppose_ I could. Though I was wondering if we would have some time to talk today?"

"Talk? Talk about what?"

"Do you remember that you told me that you would tell me about your past, after we had gotten past January ninth? I think I'm ready to talk about it, if—if that's all right with you?"

Rick stopped still, startled by the request. He'd known that this day was coming, but he hadn't expected it to come so quickly after the anniversary of Johanna's death. He knew he had to tell her about his past, but he was terrified that she would find out that he was not the man she thought she knew. Sighing, he turned toward her and looked deeply into her eyes.

"I know I said that to you, and I'll keep my word. You told me about your past, and it's only fair that you know about mine. However, there are a lot of things that I'm not proud of, and I hope that you won't think differently about me, once you've heard about them."

"Rick, you saved my life. You've been the rock that kept me from crumbling into the dust, held me up when all I wanted to do was lie down and cry. I highly doubt that there is _anything_ you can tell me that would change my mind about what kind of man you are. I told you once that our past was meaningful in that it only serves to remind us of what we _were_, not who we are now. You don't have to tell me everything, but I want to know where you came from and what brought you here today. Not to judge you, but to understand you better. Does that make sense?"

He closed his eyes, then opened them and reached for her. Drawing her into a tight hug, he whispered into her hair, "I'm scared, but I know you won't judge me for things I did when I was a different man."

"So, it's okay that we spend some time talking about our lives before?"

"Yes, we can. But first, do you think it would be okay to take a swim? I was really looking forward to playing in the waves for a while."

She laughed, music to his ears after so many tears over the last few weeks.

"Yes, Rick. You can go play in the surf. Do you want to build a sand castle too?"

"Only if you promise not to knock it down."

* * *

That evening, he managed to keep her distracted through dinner. He had worked up an appetite, out in the sea air, and wanted to enjoy the meal they put together. Most of it was bounty from the sea, a big change from their now mundane fare inside the island.

They sat near each other in the sand around the fireplace. Not so close that he was touching her, but close enough that he could if he so desired. They'd built the fire up after cooking dinner, knowing they'd be up for a while talking and wanting to have enough light to see well while they sat and twisted fibers into sennit.

And they would talk. The moment had arrived, and he wasn't sure he was up to it. He would have happily gone back into the fury of a cyclone, or even faced off with the oily Grollet instead of having to confess his sins to her. It would be a process that stripped his soul bare. He knew she deserved no less, and if he had any shot of a long term relationship with her, he had to be honest. No dissembling. No avoiding. It was time to man up.

She sat, quietly twisting away, content to let him initiate the conversation. He knew she wanted to have this discussion. So, she'd let him decide when it was time to do so. She never doubted that he would go back on his word. He simply was not that type of man.

"So, Kate, where should I start? What do you want to know?"

"I can ask anything?"

"Yes. For you, yes. I want you to know that I think very highly of you. What you've been through, in such a short time? I'm not sure many people would come through it. But you have; it's tempered you, made you stronger. And you let me in, let me see the real you when you didn't have to let anyone inside. I want to give you the same thing, though I don't have any traumas in my life like those that you've had to deal with."

"It's not a contest, Rick," she retorted, a bit annoyed by the deprecation of his own life in order to pay due to hers.

"No, I know it's not. That didn't come out right. I just meant that there are things that have affected me, some deeply, and I'm not proud of how I've responded to them. It wasn't until I came out to the South Pacific and met Anapa that I realized what type of man I _wanted_ to be. He's the one that shaped me, not through a forge of fire, like you experienced, but through gentle molding and sanding off the rough spots."

She looked up at him, almost shy in appearance. "Sorry. I'm too defensive about some of these issues. I didn't mean to accuse y…"

"No, Kate. It's fine, please," he interrupted. "I didn't explain it the way I should have. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to try and draw an analogy between us. I'll tell you what, why don't I just start by telling you about my childhood and how I got here, then if you have any questions you can fire away?"

She drew in a breath, hardly believing how open he was being with her. It was invigorating. Encouraging. And utterly terrifying. If he was willing to strip his defenses completely away for her, she would be left with no doubt as to how he felt about her.

Taking her silence for acquiescence, Rick started at what he thought was the logical place to begin. His entrance into the big, wide world.

"My mother's name is Martha Rodgers. I don't know my father's name. She told me she fell in love with him through the course of a magical night, but by daylight he'd melted away like the mist in the night. Six weeks later, she realized he'd left more than just memories behind; she was pregnant, with no idea of his name or where she could find him." He paused, seeing Kate's look of sympathy for a woman she didn't know.

"That couldn't have been easy for her."

"I daresay it wasn't. She'd come to the big city chasing a dream of acting, like so many before her. Finding herself alone and pregnant did not fit in with her career plans. But my mother is incredibly tenacious, and she decided to continue in her chosen career, and have me as well."

"Was she successful?"

"To a degree. It's hard to break into acting even without the burden of a baby and no one to help. But she persisted, and while we had a lot of years where there was simply no money for anything besides the essentials, we survived. I didn't know any different, at that age. I thought all kids grew up haunting the backstage of theaters and being chased off by annoyed property masters when items went 'missing.' I didn't get to play with many children, but I was free to develop my imagination. I was later exiled to the public library as a punishment, but I soon learned to love reading. It took me to places far beyond the world I'd seen so far. I had a very liberal childhood, in the sense that I had next to no supervision. But constraining as well, since I had no idea how to act around kids my own age."

"I can just picture a little Ricky Rodgers, dusty from exploring some backstage nooks and crannies and getting underfoot all the time."

"Oh, yes, I was great at getting into things I shouldn't. I think that's why mother finally enrolled me in a boarding school. She was finally getting bigger parts, and couldn't supervise me; I was now old enough to get into real trouble. She'd tried a series of nannies, but all they ever did was sit around watching soaps. I ran wild in the meantime."

"Boarding school, as in you lived there?"

"Yes. Well, until I got kicked out. I was pretty smart, so was able to get scholarships. We were doing better, but not that well. But I hated boarding schools with a passion. I was always the perpetual new kid, a loner. It was hard to fit in, harder to feel like I was somewhere I belonged. I eventually took a page out of mother's life and started playing a part. The big prankster who didn't _care_ if he got into trouble. I went through several schools in short order, and I think my mother was ready to disown me."

"I sense a 'but then' coming."

Rick laughed, pleased at how easily she could read him. "You're right, Kate. But then, I met one of my best friends, Damien Westlake. He took me under his wing, helped me settle down and find my voice."

"Your voice? As in singing?"

Rick chuckled. "Surely you've heard me trying to sing while I was working around the island?"

She nodded; it was a deep voice, but not particularly melodious.

"Well, then you know singing was never a talent I possessed. No, Damien was the editor of the school's literary magazine. I wrote a few pieces for him, and he encouraged me to learn more about the craft of writing. It fit me perfectly, as all that reading and time spent alone as a child was molded into an ability to write stories that others wanted to read. I was fascinated by the whole process, and quickly decided I wanted to be a writer."

"Ah, I seem to remember you having a stash of paper and pens in the bow. And Hina mentioned that you liked to sit up there when off duty and write."

"Yep. That's one reason I brought all that I could with me. I can't imagine not being able to write."

"I haven't seen you ever sitting down to write, not since we've been here."

"Well, no. We've been too busy. But once we get the major projects done, life should be a lot easier. And I'll have time to write. I'd like to keep a record of things that we do here, big and small events. Perhaps when we get back to the real world there will be an interest in knowing our story."

Kate blanched, having not considered that some celebrity, or notoriety, might result from their disappearance. Rick, noticing, reached out and took her hand.

"Hey, listen. I'll not write anything you don't want me to. And, of course, you'll be the first to read anything I write about our time here. If you don't want to be a part of it, that's fine. I promise."

He had no way of knowing that this was one promise to Kate Beckett that he'd have to break.

* * *

**Well, he's started to share his life with her. More coming. Many are asking where they can get a Rick like this one for their personal use. Maybe I should start a crowdfunding account to clone him?**


	29. Chapter 29

**This chapter is dedicated to the people I've worked with over the last 2 days. I wish I could adequately convey their empathy and support in the face of devastation, but mere words would not do them justice. I am frequently impressed by the depth of caring that I see routinely from my co-workers to their patients and families, but the last 2 days have proven once again that I work with some incredible people. Thank you. **

* * *

January, 2000

"Kate? You still with me?" He thought she looked a bit piqued. He mentally kicked himself for bringing up a book about their time together on the island. She was a quiet, introverted person. She would not submit gladly to her fifteen minutes of fame.

"Yeah, sorry, Rick. Do you really think there will be an interest in our story?"

"Kate, you have to know there will be," he said gently. "We survived a shipwreck, and even if we're found tonight or tomorrow, it will have been long enough that most people would assume us long dead. Not to mention that we have the whole Grollet thing to deal with. If the men in the lifeboat survived, he should face some sort of punishment."

"You're right, of course. I just hadn't thought it through." She lapsed into silence, furiously thinking about the possible consequences of unwanted public attention. Her mother's murder would be raked over; her alcoholic father undoubtedly found under a rock. It would be agonizing and humiliating.

"Kate. Kate!" She looked up, finding Rick's eyes, as always, on hers, concern shining through.

"Once we're found and the initial hubbub dies down, it won't be bad. Probably just some local interest, here in French Polynesia, then it will be on to the next story. And I'll be with you the whole way. We'll get through it together." He knew as he said it that it was likely a lie. His celebrity would ensure some interest outside of the South Pacific. And he was sure Black Pawn would take advantage of his disappearance to hype the book he'd finished just before leaving on this voyage. No, there would be interest. A lot of interest, though it probably depended on how soon they were found. Perhaps people might forget about them?

For the second time in mere minutes he foreshadowed events that would overtake them many years later. And underestimated the impact so badly that he'd subsequently wonder why he ever even bothered to try and control their destiny and their privacy. They would be known world-wide; celebrated by many. Hated by a few. But there would be no quiet reentry to the world. Not for either of them.

* * *

"Ok, so where were we?" she finally recovered. Had to keep going, because dwelling on what _might_ come was foolhardy. They'd handle it when the time came. Nothing they could do in the meantime; their rescue was dependent on others.

"Let's see. I was telling you about Damien, how I decided I wanted to become a writer."

"Right. Though I have to say it's hard to reconcile the image of you, as I know you, sitting still at a typewriter or computer and bringing a story to life. I've always seen you as a man of action."

"Ah, but Kate," he said, holding up his hands and wriggling his fingers for her, "you haven't seen my magical fingers in action."

Kate involuntarily gasped and dropped her head. She didn't know if he'd be able to see her face flaming in the firelight, but she didn't want to take a chance.

"Uh, that might have come out wrong," he apologized. Though he didn't sound very remorseful. She refused to look up and see if he was sorry or not.

"So, anyway, I found that I liked writing. I decided to major in it in college, got into a pretty decent one and sometimes attended classes between parties and writing my great novel. That's when I met my first love. A woman I thought was my soul mate."

Kate looked up at these words. She'd heard a bite of sorrow in his voice; an old heartbreak. "What was her name?"

"Kyra. Kyra Blaine. She held my hand through rejection letter after rejection letter, helped keep my chin up. I really thought she was the one, you know?"

Kate didn't know. Not really. She'd never had that serious of a relationship with anyone, though she suspected she might soon know. She just shook her head.

"Ah, I forgot how young you are, and..." he caught himself before he finished the sentence, but she'd heard what was coming.

"I've not been involved with anyone since my mother died. I had a casual relationship with a guy in college; maybe it would have gone somewhere, who knows? But after my mom was murdered it pretty much destroyed the whole concept for me, for a while anyway."

Rick nodded. He'd suspected there'd been no one serious in her life, at least for the past year. Otherwise, she'd never have been left to suffer alone like she had.

"Anyway, Kyra helped me through some of the darkest years that I could have imagined at the time. No one wanted anything to do with my book. I was discouraged; would probably have given it up completely, but she helped me brush off the rejections and keep plugging away. I was so crazy over her, I decided it was time to take our relationship to the next level."

"You proposed?" Kate exclaimed, surprised.

"What? No. Not marriage. I wanted to live with her. Her parents didn't like me, but I was hoping they'd come around. But before I could ask her, she landed this incredible job in London. She told me she was taking it, and I was clearly not invited. She said the separation might do us some good; help us know what we wanted in life. After she was gone a year without any signs of coming back, I finally figured out she wanted a life without me. It was devastating."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Rick. That must have been really difficult to deal with."

"It was. I have to warn you, Kate, this is where my life starts to spiral into depths that I am truly ashamed of. Looking back, it's hard to fathom how I let myself fall so far, but I did. It's not something I like to talk about, but I want you to know everything."

Kate nodded. She could picture a crushed and broken Rick. Rejected by the career he'd chosen. Rejected by the woman he loved. She was beginning to see why he'd chosen to leave New York. Nothing criminal, as Henri Grollet had suggested. Just a man who'd failed at the two things he'd wanted most in life. No wonder he'd ended up on a cargo ship.

"Just when I thought I'd never see any color in the world again, I got a letter from a publishing company named Black Pawn. They were interested in my book. We struck a deal, and before I knew it, I was a best seller. A professional dynamo and a personal vacuum. It was a recipe for disaster."

Kate nodded absently, not really paying attention until the meaning of his words sank in. She sat straighter, drawing up her back to confront him. "Wait a minute. Did you just say you wrote a best seller?"

He nodded, taken aback by her surprise. "Is it so hard to believe? It wasn't my only book to be a bestseller. I've written a bunch more, all successes. But the issue wasn't that I had finally found fame and fortune through my books. It was that fame and fortune found _me_, a willing and eager student to sample every excess you can imagine. Drinking, drugs, women. No one told me no. Many nights I'd wake up with no knowledge of the previous night. No idea who was in bed with me. I was a mess, and I was headed to the bottom with a stone tied around my neck."

"What kind of books did you write? I've never seen any best-selling Rick Rodgers books."

"No, and you wouldn't. I didn't use my real name as an author. I had a pen name."

"Well, what is it?"

"Richard Castle."

"Richard…Castle? Really?!"

"Yes. Really."

"The mystery writer?"

"Yes."

"I can't believe it. Richard Castle books were my mother's favorite books to read." She smiled softly, thinking about her mother and how she would lose herself in a good book. "I brought one of your books with me on my trip. It was her favorite."

"Really, which one?"

"A Rose for Everafter. She loved it so much, it was falling apart when I took it from her bedside table after she died. Traveling hasn't helped it, but it's still readable."

"Wow, that's amazing. We've had a connection longer than either of us thought," Rick mused.

"You're really Richard Castle?" It was hard to believe she was sitting on a tiny beach in the middle of nowhere with the man who'd written the one book she'd brought with her.

"I really am. Well, that is to say I was. I still am," he flustered.

"I'm confused. Are you or aren't you?"

"I was." Seeing that this answer hadn't helped her confusion, he held up a hand so he could explain without interruption. "Look, Kate, Richard Castle became this bigger than life persona. A man of excesses in all things. He was drunk, often. Slept around, constantly. And was sad and unhappy all of the time. I grew to hate Richard Castle. No one wanted to know Rick Rodgers. It was like I was a man in a costume, like Goofy at Disney World. And no one wanted to ruin the illusion by letting me take off the very thing that was suffocating me. I wanted to leave Richard Castle in New York, so I did."

"Is that why you're Rick Rodgers here in French Polynesia?"

"Yes. My real name is Richard Rodgers; it's on my passport. So, when I arrived, it was much simpler to go by that. Nobody knew who I was. I could just be Richard Rodgers, the person. No one suspected that I was actually a best-selling author. But, I did eventually tell Anapa and Hina."

"I can't believe you're Richard Castle."

"That's the thing, Kate. I'm not. Not anymore. He was a drunken playboy with almost no virtues. Nothing to offer to the world beyond the pages he wrote. Richard Rodgers, on the other hand, is known as an honorable, dependable man. That's who I am. Not Richard Castle. Not anymore."

Kate didn't know what to say. She'd seen firsthand what alcohol had done to her father, but he'd been drinking to forget his pain. Rick had been celebrating his fame. It should be different, but perhaps the end result was all that mattered.

"To me, looking back, it seems like I was just an empty headed playboy; that's what the press loved to print about me. But, I was so _lonely_. Mother was newly married to her second husband, and an adult son who couldn't manage his own success was not welcome in their house. I realize now that I was trying to show Kyra what she was missing; that I didn't need her in my life. Of course, it failed spectacularly. I ended up with a reputation as a drunken womanizer. And I never found what I was looking for."

"What were you looking for, Rick?"

"A family. Someone to care about me, be cared about by me. Mother helped me get cleaned up, eventually. Then, I discovered I was at a cross-roads, not quite sure what to do with myself. That's when Meredith Harper waltzed into my life."

"Who was she?"

"She was an actress, like my mother. I met her at a cast party. She was vivacious, fun. A bit crazy. We had a great time together, but she never captured my heart. Not like Kyra had. I doubt we would have lasted another month if it had all stayed the same," he trailed off, eyes sad. Kate reached for him, this time. Touched his shoulder in comfort.

"Hey, it's ok. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."

Rick looked over at her; she could see he was near tears. "I have to. This is the real reason I'm here, and not in the States."

She nodded, then instinctively took his hand and scooted closer. He'd been there for her; the least she could do was to try and be there for him.

"We were pretty hot and heavy, initially. Then one day, Meredith told me she was late. We ran out and got some of those home pregnancy tests. They confirmed my worst fears. She was pregnant. I was terrified. I had no idea how to be a father; I'd never had one, had no real examples. I spent a sleepless night wondering what the hell I was going to do. And then, as the sun rose I found myself bathed in the dawn light. I'd never gone to bed. And sitting there, warmed by the glow of the sun, I knew it would be okay. I stopped thinking about how a baby would impact my _lifestyle_ and started thinking about how a baby would affect my _life_."

"What do you mean?"

"A baby would give me someone to love, someone to care for. That's what I really craved, though I didn't realize it in those terms at the time. I was suddenly ecstatic; couldn't wait for my child to arrive. But Meredith? Well, she's not very maternal. She wasn't too excited about the baby part. But she was relishing the proximity to my money and fame. She hadn't had a lot of success in her career; at least on her talent alone. Being with me had introduced her to a new level of publicity that she came to love."

"You make her sound so…mercenary."

"Yeah, well that's a good term. Actually nicer than what _I_ would call her most days. I decided to propose; I wanted the wife, kid and white picket fence. Oddly enough, I really thought it would work. I just thought she needed some time to adjust to the whole idea of the baby. We had a scare about seven weeks in when she started bleeding. Everything checked out ok, but it made it all the more real to me. What I could lose, how much I wanted it all. I bought a ring, told my mother about it. I was disappointed with her reaction. But I knew she'd never cared for Meredith, and I hoped the baby would go a long way into bringing us all together."

"Then what on earth are you doing half way around the world from your child?" She couldn't imagine the man she knew abandoning his own baby, especially with the way he talked about having a family. It just didn't make any sense.

"I'm getting to that. It's not what it seems, please just let me finish, Kate."

She saw a stray tear trickle down his cheek, and she felt horrible. Obviously something had gone very amiss. And it was clear it had deeply affected him.

"I'm sorry, Rick. I'm jumping to conclusions, and it's not fair to you." She squeezed his hand again, then scooted all the way into him so that they ended up mutually supporting each other.

"I had planned out the proposal; had the ring, like I said. Then one day I came home early from a meeting, intending to finalize some details about the arrangements for the night I was going to ask for her hand. She didn't know I was coming home early. Neither did her director, who was in our bed with her."

Kate gasped, feeling some of the pain that must have pierced him in that moment travel through her own body. Rick shuddered, reliving the scene. Feeling the shiver, Kate instinctively wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled herself even closer to him. She had no words to make it better, but she would offer her support.

"We had a huge fight. I wanted to know if the baby was mine, or if she even knew whose it was. She claimed it was a one-time mistake; that she'd been faithful before, and of course the baby was mine. I told her I didn't believe her, and we spent several angry, miserable days fighting with any and all ammunition, verbally, that we could lob at the other. Needless to say, I didn't tell her about the ring or the proposal. The initial fury burned out after about a week, and I decided to trust her, outwardly, about the paternity of the baby. I'd simply get a blood test after the child was born, know for sure. We settled into a détente of sorts, trying to be happy again. But then…."

His body shook, and she knew it was bad. Tears were now falling freely from his eyes. Reaching up with one hand, she caressed one side of his jaw. "What happened, Rick?"

"Sh—she—she lost the baby," he sobbed, collapsing into her embrace. She felt her heart breaking for him, and just held him like he'd done for her all the times she'd broken down over the pain of losing her mother.

* * *

Rick cried for what seemed like forever, held tightly in Kate's arms. He'd never been able to let go to this degree, not even the day he'd learned that his baby was gone. His mother had embraced him, let him sob on her shoulder, but he'd always kept a piece of himself back. Here, under the now familiar stars of a different hemisphere and warmed by the body of the woman he'd come to love, he let go of all the pain and misery that he'd held onto for so long.

It was cathartic, and as he purged the grief from his soul he was suddenly glad that Kate had requested that he tell her his story. He knew how he felt about her; it was a love based in part on his admiration for her ability to overcome her own incredible traumas. If he'd kept himself shadowed, out of fear that she wouldn't like who he had been, she could never have returned his love. He understood that now. She needed to know the real Richard Rodgers. Not some artificial construct that proclaimed his strengths while trying to minimize his flaws.

Once he felt capable of continuing, he took a deep breath and started talking again.

"I felt crushed after that loss. I couldn't breathe in New York; didn't know what to do with myself. I had to get away, go somewhere to heal and find out who I really was. I told my publishing company that I was going off to do research on a new character. A man of many talents that I envisioned basing a whole series of books on. They agreed, though my publisher and my agent were aghast that I wanted to physically leave the country. They thought that was at best unnecessary and at worst simply self-serving. _I_ think they were afraid of losing their tenuous control over me; I wouldn't be under their thumbs."

"They don't sound like very nice people," she murmured, still holding him tight.

"Oh, they're very good at what they do. Gina Cowell was my first book agent, when that initial best-seller finally came through. She moved over to Black Pawn as my publisher after a few years, and I've continued to work with her on all the books I've written. Paula Haas then became my book agent. She is brash and outspoken. Both of them think they need to ride me constantly to keep me in line. I suppose they were right, at least when I was still that little boy living the life of a man when I was in New York. But I had to get away, and there was nothing they could do to keep me there. Richard Castle disappeared and Richard Rodgers took over."

"That's how you ended up in French Polynesia?"

"Yeah. I just picked somewhere around the world from New York. Wanted to get as far away as possible. Tahiti sounded exotic and relaxing. I invited Meredith. I thought maybe if we got through things together that we'd have a chance. But she was derisive; she would _never_ miss auditions and call backs. What _was_ I ever thinking?" he parroted, attempting to match her derogatory tones.

"When did you first come out here?"

"I arrived in Papeete on November 27th, 1998."

"Just past my birthday," she mused.

"When's your birthday?"

"November 17th."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Hmmm. Can't take you to a bar in the States, I guess. We'll have to think of some other way to celebrate if we get rescued this year." He winced after he realized he'd said _if_ and not _when_, but she didn't seem to notice.

"How old are you?"

"I'll be 28 in April. Much older and wiser than you, obviously." That earned him a playful pinch, which he gave a dramatic exclamation in response to, making Kate laugh. It was like music to his ears, and much preferred to the sobbing they'd both been doing too often as they rehashed their lives for the other.

"So, you came to Tahiti, and what? You've been here since 1998. I'd have thought that was more than enough research for anyone."

"Well, for almost two months I did next to nothing. I still wasn't happy, even in the middle of paradise."

Kate nodded, recalling her own feelings of wretchedness despite being surrounded by the natural beauty of Tahiti. She'd learned it wasn't the place that made you happy. That had to come from the inside.

"I was ready to throw in the towel and go home. My mother begged me too; she'd been okay with me leaving. Really the only one in my life that was. But she didn't understand the need for me to be gone for so long. I hadn't found anything inspiring enough to write about and I was terrified the whole exercise had been moot. And then, I met Anapa."

"How'd you meet him?"

"I was wandering around the docks. Trying to people watch, see if I saw anyone interesting enough that I'd want to try and capture them on paper. He saw me and thought I was at loose ends. Which I was, but he was worried I was desperate for a job and would be taken advantage of. He came over to me and struck up a conversation. I thought he was fascinating. You remember how kind and honest he is?"

Kate agreed, thinking fondly of both the captain and his wife. She hadn't known them long, but they were easily some of the nicest, most generous people she'd ever met.

"He offered me a job, on the _Iriata_. I said no at first; I didn't need a job, and certainly didn't want to be doing such strenuous labor. I was a soft writer, after all. But, there was something about Anapa that wouldn't let me forget him. I decided to do a trial run, figuring I'd spend a little time with him and Hina then get out and return home."

"So, what happened? Because you obviously didn't leave them after one run."

He chuckled. "No, no I didn't. I discovered it was all like a grand adventure. The sea, the sun, the islands. It was incredible. But even more than that, was just being around Anapa, Hina and the crew. Anapa treated me like a son, from the beginning. I'd never had a father in my life. I lapped it up like a starving puppy. And as one run turned into more, as a few days turned into months, I came to realize that I'd found a family. The very thing I'd been looking for in New York, but in all the wrong places. So, I stayed on. Learning all I could from both of them. They taught me so much; I'd never have survived a shipwreck a year ago. But under their tutelage I finally grew from a lost boy into a man."

"So you gave up writing?"

"No, not really. I learned so much from Anapa about how to survive, it imbued my new character with a strength of purpose that I'd never captured before. I wrote in my downtime, up in the bow, as you know. When we'd return to Papeete, I'd mail my completed work back to Gina. She hated that it was written out in longhand, but I didn't have any choice in the matter. I mailed the last chapter of my new book to her the night before we left to make the run to Mo'orea then on to Tupua'i."

"I wonder if they'll still publish it?"

"Well, I'm supposed to make all the final changes and approve it. But, I'd guess if they think I'm dead they'll push it through. Take advantage of the publicity that the disappearance of a best-selling author generates. Dead artists sell better than when they're alive, and all that. The morbid curiosity of the public. It's too bad, as I was really happy with the character, Derrick Storm. I was looking forward to writing more books about him."

"Were you planning on going back to New York anytime soon?"

He sighed, rubbed his head with one hand. "I honestly don't know. I loved being a part of the crew, a part of the family that I'd found. But I also knew I was avoiding my problems at home by staying away. I fled New York to get as far as possible from my fake friends and the conniving women who just wanted me for my public persona. I swore off it all: girls, drugs and booze. And I found I didn't miss any of it; rejoiced in a less complicated lifestyle. I think I was a little scared that if I went back that I'd fall right back into that trap again. Become Richard Castle once more."

"Do you really believe that?"

"No. Not really. I think I've grown up enough that I'm a different person than the boy that left New York. But it's still scary, not knowing how I'll respond."

"From what I've seen of you, Rick, there is no trace of that lost boy. You're an incredible man, and I know for a fact that you've saved my life. So, while I'm very sad that you went through so much, the journey has transformed you into someone that anyone would be proud to claim as a friend."

"Thank you, Kate," he said, hugging her tightly in return. "I can honestly say there is no one I'd rather be going through this whole experience with than you."

"Not even Anapa? I'm useless. I have to be taught everything. And I haven't been very good company over the last few weeks."

"Not even Anapa. I've enjoyed getting to know you, discovering the incredible depths that exist within you. And while it's true you didn't have any survival skills initially, you are a very fast learner. I think you're one of the most intelligent, capable people that I've ever met. So, while I wish you'd never had to go through the hell that this past year has been, had never lost your mom, I _am_ grateful for whatever force that guided you to come to Papeete and then seek out the _Iriata_ that day. I can't imagine not having you in my life."

No words were needed after that. They simply sat, leaning on each other as they began to learn that together they were stronger than either could be apart. It was a strength that would build inexorably over time, until even an accidental separation and the subsequent forces brought to bear against them would have no chance of tearing them apart.

* * *

**I wasn't sure I'd be able to update today: my job on occasion has the ability to submerge me to the point that it is very difficult to accomplish anything else. The last 30 hours have been a true lesson in the important things in life. I'd like to think I learned the secret to life long ago: to love others, and be loved in return. Nothing else really matters when it all boils down to the bare essence of existence. I can't accurately portray the agony of what I see some families live through without writing a tragedy that no one would want to read. I do urge you to hug your loved ones and remember that in the end we're remembered by the people that we touched and not the money we made or the things that we owned.**


	30. Chapter 30

**This chapter is dedicated to hfce. Not only do I get interesting reviews from hfce, but also some absolutely great PMs. Really appreciate all the interest that this story has given rise to, and love hearing from people, whether it's in the form of a PM or a review. Thank you so much for all the comments, my friend!**

* * *

January, 2000

They went to bed shortly after, and spent a quiet night. Rick had covered the fish and the salt with tarps, weighed down with sand anchors, at sunset. The usual deluge overnight didn't concern them at all; they were quite snug in their little shelter, and were assured that their hard work would be safe.

Both Rick and Kate rose early the next morning. Kate seemed very quiet to Rick; he worried she was upset or concerned about some of the things he'd confessed to her last night. She'd needed time to contemplate it all, and now that enough time had passed, he prayed that she hadn't decided that he wasn't a worthy candidate for her affections.

And her affections were something he very much wanted to pursue. He knew he loved her. He wanted nothing more for her to return that love. He thought it was a definite possibility; thought they would be incredible together. But he would never think about forcing her into anything. That would backfire, as no one could make Kate Beckett do anything against her will. Plus, he didn't want her love unless it was freely given. It was only love if she came to him of her own volition.

They watched the sunrise together, relishing the beautiful colors that were painted across the sky. Kate still hadn't said anything of more consequence than 'good morning.' Rick knew she that while she was an early riser, she wasn't typically very talkative. Apparently before the shipwreck she'd always enjoyed coffee to get her day going. This was no longer an option. Still, he worried. He'd not bared his soul to anyone before, and it was terrifying to stand next to her the morning after. Not knowing what she was thinking: about him, about his story. About them.

After he'd uncovered the fish and the salt to continue drying in the sun, he returned to the surf to refill their bucket. The third batch of salt was already bubbling away on the fire, having only boiled about half the water off the night before. Kate gave him a tight smile when he came back with the bucket, but still remained reticent. Rick couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"Kate, you've been awfully quiet. I hope it's not about something I said last night."

She looked over at him, then half turned to face away, looking out at the breaking waves. His chest tightened as he watched her long hair blowing back from her face in the breeze off the ocean. There was something wrong. He didn't know how he'd live, knowing she'd never return his feelings. It would be torture. And who knew how long they'd be stuck here. He wished he'd been able to prepare her better for all he'd had to tell her. She'd had no idea of the depth of his depravity and now that she did, she clearly wanted nothing to do with him. He felt like such an idiot. God, how he wished he could have phrased it better, or been gentler about introducing it all. Maybe he'd said something badly, or not explained something well. It was.."

"Rick!" she sounded almost irritated.

"Huh? Yes, Kate?"

"Have you been listening to anything I said?"

"Uh…you were talking?"

She sighed. "I was trying. You were obviously in your own little world."

"Sorry. It's just…well, it's just that I shared a lot of disturbing stuff about myself last night, and you were so quiet today. I was worried you hated me."

"Hated you? I don't hate you, Rick."

"Then why have you been so quiet? More than usual, anyway?" he clarified in response to seeing one eyebrow quirk up.

"I've just been…thinking."

"I'm sorry, Kate. I shouldn't have laid it all on you last night. It was too much, too overwhelming."

"No, that's not it. You know I've been curious about your story for a while. I _wanted_ to hear it."

"You were shocked at the horrible life I've led. I'm not that person, Kate. Not anymore. I.."

Her hand on his arm quietened him. "Rick, stop. I've told you several times, nothing in your past is meaningful now. I know who you are, here on the island. I just…I." She paused, and for once Rick remained silent, waiting. Something was bothering her and she was trying to tell him. He had to be patient. Not something that came naturally to him.

"It's…well. Don't take this the wrong way, but why did you tell me all that? It was all so personal; you didn't have to tell me everything. I would have been satisfied with a less complete discussion."

Rick was taken aback. He'd done it so she'd know everything about him. He'd assumed she'd known how he felt about her, but perhaps she didn't understand just how deeply he cared for her. It was frightening to make himself so vulnerable, but he had to take the risk.

"You have to know why, Kate."

She looked up at him, through her lashes. It was an unguarded look, and he thought he saw her understanding. But the moment was lost after a few seconds.

"I—I think I do. I hope I do. But I don't want to assume anything. I guess I just want to make sure we're on the same page," she said shyly.

Rick nodded, taking a minute to collect himself. He wasn't sure how direct he could be, but decided that there was no value in holding back. He hadn't last night, and now she needed to know. He wanted her to know. He _needed_ her to know, so if there were no chance she felt the same way she could tell him. He didn't want to spend months dancing around the subject. Who knew how long they'd be here, have this time alone? If they were rescued, they would likely be separated, go back to their families. Especially if they didn't know how the other felt.

"I told you all that I did last night because I wanted you to know _everything_ about me. I don't want you to wonder if there's something I'm holding back or some secret that I'm keeping. 'Cause there's _not_." He paused for a minute, saw she was watching raptly. It was the right moment. "I…I care about you, Kate. A lot. In fact, you may not be ready to hear this, but…I'm in love with you. And I hope someday you'll feel the same for me. So, there's _nothing_ I want to hide from you."

Rick was waiting for a response. He wasn't foolish enough to think she was where he was—but he hoped she'd get there. Declaring himself so baldly was a huge risk, but she had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She'd have to deal with her feelings, one way or the other. He just hoped it wasn't outright rejection, because she didn't look exactly happy with his exclamation that he loved her.

Kate was stunned. She knew he had strong feelings for her, but this openness with her was beyond anything she'd imagined. She wasn't in love with him—yet. However, she knew she could be. Her internal conversation just yesterday had shown her that much. But she also still harbored some doubts about his feelings. Not what they were; he'd made that clear. But if she deserved them.

"You love me? Why?"

That was not what he'd expected her to ask. But, ok, he could answer this.

"I love your spirit, your intelligence. Your adaptability. Your kindness. Your..."

"No, no, Rick," she interrupted, "that's not what I meant to ask. I mean, you're Richard Castle. You wrote books my mom stood in line to buy. She even made me go with her to a book signing once. Why do you love _me_? I'm no one special."

"You came to a book signing? When?"

"It was a couple years ago, at a bookstore near Central Park. But that's my point, I'm just a face in the crowd. You could have anyone you wanted. You're Richard Castle and I'm a no one from West Village."

Rick took the few steps that separated them and wrapped her in his arms.

"Oh, Kate. I told you, I'm _not_ Richard Castle. Not anymore. I know you don't feel the same way, not yet. It's too soon after January ninth; there's too much you still have to deal with emotionally. But I want you to know how _I_ feel so there are no secrets between us. If you don't think you can ever return my love, that's ok. I don't expect that you'll fall madly for me just because we're stuck on an island together. But I _do_ love you, for many reasons. And they have nothing to do with the fact that we are stuck here."

She didn't pull back or try to get free. In fact it felt right to stand there with him, locked in an embrace. She felt safe and secure, as she often did while in his arms.

"How do you know that it's real? This whole situation is so surreal; our life so separated from the real world. What if you feel this way just because there's no one else here with us? Because you are trapped here with me? How do you know it's really love?" she fretted. How could he really, truly be in love with _her_?

"Kate," he sighed, "do you remember everything I told you last night? About Kyra and Meredith?"

"Yes, I think so?"

"Then you know that I said that I didn't feel for Meredith as strongly as I felt for Kyra?"

"Yes." She thought this was an odd way to discuss his feeling for her, bringing up other girlfriends.

"So, until that time I thought that I'd never feel as much for anyone as I felt for Kyra. She was the one that I thought got away, my true love."

He could feel her stiffening in his arms. Knew he had to get his point made, quickly.

"I'm sorry, this may not the best way to describe how I came to the conclusion that I love you. But what I'm trying to tell you is _how_ I've realized that I was never really in love with either Meredith or Kyra. They were just relationships that were given to me so that when I finally, truly fell in love, I'd recognize it."

He pulled his head back, separating them enough so he could look down on her face. Let her see the love and sincerity in his eyes.

"Do you want to know how I know for sure I'm in love with you?"

She nodded slowly.

"Well, I feel more deeply for you than I ever knew was possible, but that's not the reason. You make my heart clutch when you laugh, and I'd happily spend the rest of my life trying to get you to smile that giant smile of yours. It lights up the world. But that's not the reason, either. I could tell you that I hate it when you're sad, and want to spend all day holding you or trying to comfort you, but that's not the reason. All of those things are true, but the real proof I know I'm in love with you is that I would let you go."

She looked at him, confused. "What?"

"When Kyra left me, I was so upset. Mad, sad, crazy with grief at times. I couldn't believe she'd do that to me. Yet, she did. And clearly she didn't share the same feelings as me. But I never wanted her to go. Even though she was clearly happier in London, I wanted her with me so that _I'd_ be happy. I've finally realized that's not love. Not true love, anyway."

He took a deep breath, let it out, then tried to continue. This last part was hard to verbalize, but it needed to be said.

"If there was a point where I knew for certain that you would be better off without me in your life than with me in your life, I would let you go. Because I love you so much, that I want only for you to be happy. My feelings don't factor into it, not at all. If you're hurting, I'd take it on; shoulder it for you if I could. Because it hurts _me_ worse, to see you in pain. I want you to have the world, Kate Beckett. I've never, ever felt that way about anyone. But I feel it for you. And that's how I know I'm finally in love, for the very first time."

Silent tears spilled from her eyes as she absorbed his words and the meaning behind them. She'd been loved, unconditionally: by her parents, her family. But never had anyone unrelated to her loved her like this. She heard the truth in his voice, saw the earnestness in his eyes. He loved her. He genuinely loved her.

He reached up, wiping away the tears.

"Hey, hey. I didn't mean to make you cry. You don't need to do or say anything right now, Kate. But I love you, and I hope and pray one day you'll feel the same way for me."

She took a shuddering breath, then leaned back into his chest, listened to his heart pumping beneath her ear. An organ that belonged to her as much as to him.

"You're right, Rick. It is too soon. I don't feel the same as you. I haven't been able to do or think about anything other than my mom. For the last year, it's been the event in my life that completely overshadows everything and everyone else. But…but…I'm not immune to you. I care about you, a lot, as well. Just give me time. I need to know you better, know you away from this month when everything is colored by what happened a year ago."

"I know, Kate, I know," he whispered, cheek resting on the top of her head as he held her in his arms.

"I never thought I'd ever recover from her murder. Sometimes I wondered if I even wanted to. If I never loved anyone again, I'd never be hurt like losing her hurt me. Never feel the agony ever again. But, these last few weeks; the last month or so with you, I've started to realize that while I'll always miss her, that life can go on. That it's worth risking the pain if you're with the right person. And for me? I think that's you."

Rick let out a huge sigh of relief. This was the best outcome, and he'd been afraid to hope for it. "I'll give you all the time you need. And if you never change your mind, that's ok. But I want to continue to be able to tell you everything. To continue how well we talk to each other, and are open with each other. Can we do that?"

"I'd love to be able to do that. I've never had anyone, other than my mom, that I could talk to about anything on my mind. Thank you so much, for being there for me. For taking care of me these last few weeks. No one did anything like that for me, after my mother died. It means the world to me, Rick, and I hope you know how much I appreciate it."

"I'll do anything to make you feel better, Kate. If that means holding you while you're crying, then I'm happy to do that. Just tell me if you need space away from me, or if I'm crowding you. I know you need more time alone than I do."

"I will. But I don't feel crowded when I'm with you. I just feel safe."

He gave her a tight squeeze, before letting her go. They were going to be all right. Given time, they'd be completely and utterly all right.

They spent the rest of the day in easy conversation, making more salt batches and keeping an eye on the fish. They talked about trivial things, learning more about each other and just enjoying the relaxed atmosphere on the little beach, where there were no pressing jobs to finish.

Their first two salt piles were now completely dry. Kate was a little discouraged with the quantity, but since they'd been able to start first thing in the morning, they were hoping to get at least four batches done today. They planned to stay one more day, and would continue to boil water up until it was time to leave. They could take any partially dried batches back with them, and would try and move the pot in the canoe, with the lid on, to finish boiling back at Pereora.

Kate continued to keep one eye out for any sign of ships, but remained disappointed on that front. There weren't even any contrails in the sky. No signs of any other living persons besides herself and Rick. She knew they were likely far from any commercial shipping lanes, and apparently from any air routes as well. It was sobering to think it might be months—or longer—for them to be rescued. She never considered for an instant that there might come a time when she wished they never had been found.

* * *

The final day at the beach saw them packing up and deconstructing the shelter and drying rack. They had a whole empty water bottle filled with finished salt, and three sheets with still-drying collections, along with a pot half boiled off.

Rick had tested all the fish; the key for dried fish was to make sure the thickest part of the fillet had no give to it at all. They all were unyielding, so he packed them into a loosely woven basket that Kate had put together from palm fronds while watching the salt pot the day before. She'd even made a lid for it.

Kate spent a few minutes putting the rocks in their SOS message back in line. No sense in letting it degenerate, not if she could help it. It was likely invisible from the ocean's surface, but if a plane ever happened by…well, might as well be prepared.

"You ready to go back?" he asked as she stood looking out at the distant horizon.

Turning to him, she gave him a little smile. "I'm ready to sleep on my mattress again, and to get away from all this sand. But it's been nice, being out here. Just wouldn't want to live out here for longer than a few days."

"It's kind of like our vacation house. We have to plan, pack, and travel to get here. And we love it, while we're here. But we're anxious to get back home, too."

She laughed at this analogy. "I'm sure there are people who would pay good money to have a vacation on a deserted tropical beach. But what I wouldn't give to have a thick mattress and soft pillow."

This single comment started what would be their whole conversation on the return trip. It helped them to learn more about the other, as well as helping pass the time during the otherwise quiet periods spent paddling back and forth.

"A mattress and pillow. Hmmm. Not bad. Know what I'd like? I'd love a hot shower and a real razor." Rick used one hand to rub his beard. He'd managed to keep it fairly short, as they had a pair of large shears, but there was no way to shave.

"Really? I'm surprised. Not about the shower, but about the beard."

"Why? It's hot and annoying."

"When I met you, on the _Iriata_, you had a beard. Shorter than this one, to be sure, but still a beard. Why do you want to get rid of it now?"

"Well, Miss Beckett, I'll have you know that I usually got a full shave when I was in port at Papeete. While at sea, I'd let it grow out to a short beard. There's nothing like holding a sharp blade to your neck while on a pitching boat to make you appreciate the merits of facial hair. But I always went to the barber shop when we hit the capital. I didn't have a free moment this last trip, when I met you. I was too busy trying to finish up the last chapter of my next novel. I figured we'd have plenty of spare time after we returned, but clearly that part of the plan didn't work out so well."

She rolled her eyes at the dramatic voice he used to emphasize the last phrase. "Well, you do have plenty of spare time."

"Not really. You see, the woman I'm currently living with makes me work my fingers to the bone, full of such silly demands like _food_ and _shelter_," he teased. He got a response, in the form of a splash of water in the face.

"Oh, sorry about that, Rick. I guess I wasn't watching my paddle that closely," she laughed.

"Ah, Miss Beckett. You will soon learn that I have a diabolical mind. And one of my very favorite pastimes is to plan my revenge. Bwahahahaha."

"I'm terrified. But speaking of shelter, are we going to be working on the rest of the path to the bamboo grove? What are your plans for our next jobs?"

"So, we do need to finish that. It'd be silly to stop working on it when we're so close. And a true shelter will make things so much easier; we'll sleep better, feel better in general. But it's a big job. I also want to completely thatch the roof over the kitchen, so that we have a place with fire available that is out of the weather. And we need to start working on some real furniture. I'm tired of sitting on logs, and we'll need it for when our home is finished."

"Furniture would be nice. It'd be great to have a table and some chairs in the dining area."

"Table and stools shouldn't be hard. I have an idea for some more comfortable chairs, and we'll need a bed. Also, some shelves for all the linens in the house and dishes, glasses and the like for the kitchen."

Kate noticed the lack of plural with the bed, but chose not to say anything. It would be weeks if not months before the house was complete, and who knew what might have happened by then?

"That's a big list. It'll be strange when we finish the house. Whatever will we do with our time?" she wondered.

Rick thought feverishly that he had some ideas, but he wisely kept those particular plans to himself. "There are some other projects I want to try my hand at, once we're done with the house. I'd love to make some irrigation system for the orchard. We'll be in the dry season in a few months, and we have no idea just how dry it might be. Running some bamboo piping from the waterfall to the orchard might very well mitigate the backbreaking labor hauling water with our one and only bucket would be."

"That's a great idea. I wonder how long before we'll get our first mangoes and papayas? They'll be a nice addition to our meals."

"I'm not sure. Since we're in the tropics, the growing season is all year round. Hopefully it won't be long. We have yet to plant any of the seeds, so that should be another thing to do. I'm not even sure what types there are in the barrels."

"Adding some variety to our diet would be great. What other projects were you thinking about?"

"I want to make a way to have water on hand for the kitchen. Not totally sure about that one yet, but I've been mulling it over. And a shower would be the height of luxury, instead of bathing in the lake every day."

"Sounds like we still have a lot of work to do," Kate mentioned. She leaned forward, expectantly. They were just about to cross from the channel to the lake, and she always loved seeing the transition from the narrow, dark confines of the channel to the wide open and sunny lake.

"It's so beautiful here," she said, turning to Rick after they'd made the passage.

"It's good to be home," he agreed, as they pointed the little canoe towards the shore nearest Pereora. Left unsaid was that, for him, home was now wherever Kate was.

* * *

**Thanks for all the caring words people have shared. It was a rough end to the week, the kind you never get used to dealing with in pediatrics. I finish my call tomorrow morning at 8 am and then get to just deal with the relatively simple craziness of clinic. I appreciate everyone's support.**


	31. Chapter 31

**This chapter is dedicated to Lala111202. Another dedicated reader who sends me lovely reviews and PMs. This is one of the great things about fanfic: you get to discuss and share your work with wonderful people from all over the world. I love hearing from people about what works and what doesn't; Lala111202 is great about corresponding with me. Thanks for all your kind words and for continually encouraging me!**

* * *

February, 2000

Kate paused, wiped the sweat from her forehead, then went back to weeding her little garden. The seeds had all sprouted, and she was looking forward to having fresh tomatoes, onions and green beans to add to their meals soon. She could hear the sound of Rick's saw cutting through more bamboo in the distance.

It had been a month since their trip to the outer beach for fish and salt. A very busy month, which had seen them finish the narrow path to the giant bamboo grove. Rick had then chopped down the pieces he wanted for the framework of their shelter, and they'd dragged them, one by one, to the water. It was much, much easier to lug them up to the building site in the clearing once they were floated down to the shore nearest Pereora.

Kate had been needed to help with the initial framing. There was no way Rick could have done it alone, and they had just finished the last piece of the initial frame for the roof and walls the day before. It was a roughly octagonal shape, with a large central pole that had eight roof rafters running down to meet the vertical poles for the walls.

At about twenty four feet in diameter, Kate thought it was much bigger than they needed, but Rick had been insistent that they'd appreciate the extra room. He'd chosen an octagon to minimize any wind impact on the roof, though they were protected fairly well within their little clearing.

Rick was very pleased with his plans for the house, once he'd sketched it out on a piece of his precious paper. He was using techniques learned from seeing traditional structures in the islands and discussing them with Anapa and the rest of the crew, all of whom had opportunities to help in the construction of various buildings through the years. However, without direct knowledge, he had come up with some of his own ideas as well. He was trying to improve things where he could. For example, in Tahiti, sleeping buildings were traditionally built on dirt or rocks. He planned on having an elevated floor, made with more bamboo. It would be cleaner, and drier than a traditional structure.

His plan called for the roof to overhang the walls by about a foot. Each wall, save one, would have a lower portion, about waist high, that was fixed to the elevated floor. This would be composed of thatching, like the roof. However, the upper part of the wall would be hung from each cross beam that ran between every two load bearing vertical poles that made up the outer framework. This mobile piece of the wall could then be propped open with a long piece of bamboo, raising it up to become an extension of the roof. With all the upper walls open like this, there would be the ability to have complete air circulation through the house. These 'windows' could also be closed, by removing the bamboo that supported them. Rick planned that they could tie them down, to the fixed lower wall, in case of rain.

He'd asked Kate to weave large screens for them as well. These would also hang from the top plate, but inside each window. He wanted them to span the length of one piece of the wall, so they could leave the 'windows' propped open, but still have a way to screen out the worst of the bugs and provide shade if desired during really hot, sunny days.

Only seven of the walls had the windows and screens; the eighth was where he was placing the door, closest to the kitchen and pergola. He'd considered making another door to exit nearest the path to the outhouse, but decided that wasn't necessary. It would be easier to extend the bamboo path around to the front door.

Rick also decided it would be nice to have some sort of porch on the front. However, Kate had convinced him that was a project that could wait. She was right, he had plenty to do. He'd just build a temporary step, then work on the porch later. There was enough room in the clearing in front of the house to make a good sized platform. The front door faced mostly west south west, so evenings would be quite enjoyable. He was really excited for it all to be done; the problem was building it. Or rather, finding time to build it.

Digging out the post hole for the magnificent piece of bamboo he'd chosen to be the central support for their house took nearly half a day. He'd wanted it deep, and so took the time to do it right. However, even as he and Kate got it positioned and level with a plumb line he'd made, he knew there was no way he could engineer it to withstand a cyclone.

They weren't very common; the one they'd had the misfortune of running into had been a rare event. But, it would be catastrophic. It was an issue he worried about even as he measured out the lengths needed for the eight vertical exterior wall poles, dug their holes and placed them.

Digging an underground shelter, like those for tornados in the States, would probably get them drowned. If not drowned, wet enough to appear that they had. They hadn't found any caves, or even large lava tubes, during their exploration of the island just after Christmas. However, there was one part of the island's interior that remained unmapped: the area just behind the waterfall. He knew due to undercutting erosion by water that the area behind a waterfall often formed a natural cavern. Perhaps they could seek shelter there. If it existed.

Frantic labor to get the rest of the frame in place and the entire structure tied together took up the next few weeks, and Rick was thrilled with the results. It was a very solid structure, and would stand for a long time, barring Mother Nature.

Today, he was cutting the bamboo that would run from the central pole to the outer poles and support the floor. Once it was all cut, he'd have Kate help him get it in place, then most of the rest of the structure he'd be able to do on his own. Not that he didn't enjoy working with her; quite the opposite in fact. But, there were so many other things to do, like work in the little garden they'd started with some of the seeds. She had also been tasked with gathering the copious amount of palm and Pandanus leaves they'd need to start making the thatching tiles.

He felt that they had continued to draw closer to each other, though they were both working so hard right now that there was little time to do much beyond working, eating and sleeping. However, he'd borne witness as Kate had slowly blossomed into the woman he'd always imagined she could be. Now that January was receding rapidly, she was more apt to laugh and smile than ever. And she seemed to enjoy working with him on their house, asking lots of questions about what he was doing and why he chose to do something in a particular manner.

Finishing his final cut, he looked up at the sun. It was near midday, and time for a break. He walked out of the clearing and quickly made his way onto the plain where they'd established their garden, next to the fruit trees. She was there, weeding as he'd heard her mention that morning.

"Hey, Kate. Ready for a break?"

She looked up and gave him a giant smile. The kind that he died in every time she gave him one.

"Sure, Rick. You finished cutting the joists for the floor?"

"Yep, just finished. I thought we'd have lunch together, then maybe you could help me position them? It's the very last of the framework we'll have to do together."

"That's pretty exciting. I'm basically done here. Look at the tomatoes!" she exclaimed happily. They were noticeably growing daily, which was quite gratifying.

"Say, Rick?" she asked as they walked together back to the pergola and their luncheon of fruit, "I was wondering if it'd be okay to use the saw if you're done with it for a while?"

"Sure, Kate. There are a couple of saws, so use whatever you want. But do you need some help with something?"

"No, it's a surprise," she said, mysteriously.

"A surprise! I love surprises! What is it?"

"You'll just have to wait and find out. But you'll definitely like it."

"When will it be done? Today? Tomorrow?"

"Rick, you have the patience of a gnat. It'll be done when I show it to you. I have no idea how long."

He looked over at her, drinking in her sun-kissed hair, deep tan, sparkling eyes. "I have all the patience in the world when it's something I want, Kate," he stated. The moment between them heated up as he stood staring into her eyes. It felt electric, and for a brief moment he thought she was going to lean into him, maybe even kiss him.

The moment was lost, though, when one of their stupid chickens startled from something, just outside the pergola. The sudden, indignant squawk and flapping wings ruined the spell they'd been under, and Kate turned away from him, blushing. Damn chickens. They'd had it in for him from the time he'd been put to stacking their crates in the cargo hold.

After lunch, it took them less than two hours to finish the floor joists. Kate had learned quickly how to join the poles together, and with her helping tie everything down, the job was done quite rapidly. He'd sacrificed one of their invaluable nylon ropes for the roof, as it was the most important piece of the structure. The rest would be fine with their homemade rope. Kate had become very proficient in making it, so he wasn't worried about sacrificing strength. Durability was the only concern, but it would be easier to keep an eye on potential wear and tear from the ground.

"Do you need any more help, Rick?"

"Nah, I'm good for now. Thanks for your assistance."

"What's the next step?

"I'm going to start in on the purlins next." She gave him a quizzical look, so he explained, "Those are the pieces that run between the rafters. I'll put up the longest ones, those that run between the rafters nearest the edge of the roof, first. Then it's just a matter of going up, with them getting shorter and shorter as I approach the top, where the center pole is located. It's like you're building a ladder on the way up."

"And you layer the thatch over the pu...p…what was the word?"

He smiled at her. She was so adorable, he couldn't help it. "Purlins. And yes, that's what I tie the thatch into."

"It sounds a bit dangerous, climbing up the roof. It's pretty high, up at the top," she added, looking up at the central pole. Rick had made a ladder from bamboo to get up to the point where the rafters all met, but this would be climbing over the structure itself.

"I'll be careful. The roof and the purlins are quite strong; they have to be, as the thatch is quite heavy. It, in turn, will be heavy so that it's waterproof. It'll be nice to have somewhere to sleep without drips waking you up."

* * *

Rick worked until dinner on the first of the purlins. The first few were the hardest, as he had to use the ladder to go from side to side to side, and that took time to move. Once he got a few in place, he'd just perch on the already completed purlins, and could move around the roof on them at will.

He'd heard Kate working on something, but restrained his curiosity. She wanted to surprise him; he wouldn't spoil that. She was becoming more and more playful with him. He felt like he was seeing the real Kate Beckett—probably her first appearance since her mother's murder. It was…encouraging.

"Kate?" he called out. "I'm going to fix dinner."

"Ok, be there in a few minutes," she called back.

When she made her way to the kitchen, she found him plating out some baked sweet potatoes, covered with a warm stew he'd had bubbling on the fire since that morning at breakfast.

"Thanks, Rick. It smells delicious."

"You're welcome, Kate. How is the top-secret project going?"

"Well, funny you should ask. I think I'll be done sometime tomorrow. It's going very well, and I'm quite happy with it so far."

"I am intrigued. Any hints?" he teased.

"Hmm, well, let's see. Umm, ok. It's something you want, a lot."

Rick had to bite his tongue to keep 'that would be you' from spilling from his mouth. His face must have looked funny though, as she laughed at him.

"No guesses, Rick? You'll just have to wait until tomorrow, then."

He chuckled, relieved she hadn't caught his misstep. "I was thinking that we'd go swimming after dinner, but not here."

"Oh, where do you want to go?"

"I was just thinking about how proud I am of the house so far. It's really strong, and I think it'll last a long, long time. But, it'd be no match for a cyclone, if we ever had the misfortune of getting hit. That got me to thinking about what the native islanders do when there's a bad storm."

"What's that?"

"They hide in lava tubes or caves. Both of which we seem to be lacking. But then I thought of the one place on the island we haven't really explored so far."

"Behind the waterfall!"

"Exactly. You've been thinking about it too?"

"I just remember when we first were exploring, that I wondered if there were any caves behind it. Maybe something that led to the sea, so we wouldn't have to use the canoe to go back and forth."

"I don't want to seem like a spoilsport, Kate, but I doubt there's anything that extensive behind the falls."

"Yeah, I realized that when we canoed around the island. It's a solid appearing mass, and there weren't any more beaches. That's why I never brought it up."

"Well, let's find out after dinner. I was going to take one of our shell oil lamps and sacrifice one of our last matches. I can't figure out how to get light back there, otherwise."

An hour later, they were standing on the shore next to the falls. There was no way to see behind them, and no path that they could walk on. It would have to be swum.

Rick had always been a good swimmer, but the last few months spent in the water nearly every day had made him even better. He felt entirely comfortable swimming under the thundering water, not concerned even if there was a solid wall. The falls weren't forceful enough for him to think it would be very dangerous. He also felt safe taking Kate with him. She was an excellent swimmer, like him; long, lithe limbs that knifed through the water.

"Ready?"

She nodded. He checked that the shell, bottle of oil, matches and wick were in the waterproof pouch that normally housed his paper and pens.

"Ok, let's go," he said, wading into the water. Kate followed and they swam together to the area just in front of the middle of the falls. The current was fairly strong, but Rick was glad to note that it wouldn't keep them from swimming forward.

He turned to her; she was a vision with her hair wet and framing her face, eyelashes sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight. He gulped, suddenly glad they were in the water, concealing as it was.

She gave him a thumbs up, and they turned as one and sliced through the water towards the unknown underbelly of the waterfall. The sensation of the water hitting him as it fell from the upper reaches of the island was nice; almost like a super-efficient shower. Then, in a heartbeat, he'd burst through, past the veil of water, and found himself in a dark pool. Kate was next to him, breath indrawn as she tried to look around.

There was some dim light that penetrated the falls. They were in a hollow, and Rick found that he touched the bottom within a few strokes. The lake bed shallowed rapidly, and he was soon standing on a rock floor; he couldn't see anything beyond as it was cast in inky darkness.

He heard some splashing as Kate swam forward, then joined him in climbing out of the water.

"It's bigger than I thought. I wonder how far back it goes?" she wondered. Her words echoed around them, sounding quite odd with the thunder of the falls already echoing off the walls they couldn't see.

"Let me get the lamp lit and we'll see." He knelt on the rock and carefully poured some of the candlenut oil into the shell, then arranged the wick before striking the match. Lamp lit, he stood with it in one outstretched hand and they had their first glimpse of the cavern.

It stretched back from the entrance, walls gradually tapering until they met in a soft curve at the back. The ceiling sloped down as well; it started at around twenty feet high, and appeared to be just around six feet at its lowest. Around fifteen feet wide, it was perhaps twenty feet deep.

"This is quite roomy," Rick said, striding forward on the smooth rock that made up the entire chamber. The area nearest the falls was damp; some of the spray of the falling water making its way onto the walls. However, the majority of the back of the chamber was quite dry. It was very cool, with no sun to warm it.

"I can't believe how big it is, Rick," exclaimed Kate.

"I know, right? This would be perfect for shelter from a bad storm. We could bring in a stack of wood, and place some stores in here. It's cool enough to act as a root cellar."

"That sounds good, though how are you going to do that without getting things wet?" she queried. Sometimes Rick's ideas ran far ahead of their practicality. It was something she loved about the two of them. He was the one with dreams and ideas. She often had the practical answer or solution when his were too grandiose.

"Well, we don't know how dry it gets here, out of the rainy season. Perhaps there's a lot less water, and we could swim it or even walk it in from the shore? Maybe there'll be enough room to do that, with less volume coming down. Plus, we don't know how far the water level of the lake will fall."

"Rick, those are good questions, but what if neither of those scenarios come true?"

"Then, we'll have to make some waterproof baskets and float them in. My bag isn't big enough to hold anything substantial. And it wouldn't matter about the wood. It would dry out, eventually."

She nodded, acquiescing to his plan. It held merit. Having a cool, dry place to store things like potatoes would allow them to harvest a lot more and have a stock in case something happened. And it was the perfect place to shelter from any storms.

Kate moved to the back, looking around. There was surprising little debris, so it would take little effort to make the place habitable and useful. She knelt down at the very back and brushed a few rocks away. Rick had walked up behind her and was looking around as well. She didn't realize that he'd knelt down next to her; at least she didn't realize it until she pivoted on the balls of her feet and found his face just inches from hers.

They both froze, eyes locked on the other. Kate could hear his breathing quicken, become harsher. He licked his lips, and she suddenly realized how badly she wanted to kiss him. Or have him kiss her. A sizzle of energy tingled through her, starting from her abdomen and pulsating out in a wave. It was so strong, she was shocked she didn't see it leave her pores and strike him.

He closed his eyes and let out a slight groan. "Kate." It came out more as a moan than a real sound. His eyes still closed, he tried breathing deeply in through his nose, fighting for control. Suddenly, he spun back around on his feet, stood abruptly and stalked to the edge of the cavern, where it met the water. Setting down the lamp, he spoke to her, back still to her.

"I'm just going to see if there is some sort of ledge or something on either side of the falls." And with that, he was gone, wading quickly into the water and disappearing under the thundering curtain.

Kate collapsed onto her bottom, legs giving out, heart racing. Her thoughts looped over and over, reviewing that moment. She'd thought he was going to kiss her. She'd hoped he was going to kiss her. And, she couldn't deny that she'd _wanted_ him to kiss her.

The last month had progressed much as Kate had hoped. They'd developed a very easy relationship. He was the perfect companion to be exiled with. Skillful, certainly. Attentive, without a doubt. Intellectually challenging, but with a streak of humor that often had her laughing hysterically. She'd discovered that the best moments of her day were always with him. And it had nothing to do with whatever job they worked. Even the hard labor of raising the support poles for the house had been made fun by his company.

He'd taught her a lot; almost as if he wanted her to know as much as he did, in case something happened to him. Kate now felt completely at ease gathering their food and preparing it, making the rope that was so necessary to their comfort and survival, and working with the bamboo and the tools to make functional buildings or other items for them. The only thing she would quail at trying was using the canoe by herself, out in the open ocean. However, Rick also wouldn't risk that; they always went together if they needed to go to the outer rim of the island.

And as her time with him taught her just how much she valued him as a friend and a person, it also had the virtue of beginning to heal her broken heart. Rick's love, which he had continued to demonstrate in thousands of gestures—tiny to grand—had given her back the comfort of having someone care for her. As a result, she'd been able to stop dwelling on what she'd lost, and was in the slow, but inescapable, process of realizing what it meant to be alive. And to find joy in the little things through the day that show the beauty of living on earth.

She still wasn't ready to enter a relationship with him. However, she now had to admit for the first time that she would be ready. Soon. There were several items that had to be addressed first, but she knew the day was coming rapidly where their mutual passion would explode. Moments like this one in the cave and the one earlier in the kitchen were becoming more frequent, and more difficult to rein in. And it was getting harder and harder to explain to herself why they needed to restrain it.

* * *

**A guest reviewer wondered about the age discrepancy being different, and that Meredith's pregnancy with Alexis would have been earlier than what I've described. This story is A/U. I didn't think it reasonable when I first started writing it that Rick would be at loose ends and trying to find himself at age 30. Thus, I decided to compress their age difference a bit to make it (IMO) more believable. This by necessity moves the date of Meredith's pregnancy. **

**The design I came up with for their house is based on traditional building methods of Polynesia, coupled with reading a lot about yurts from Mongolia. The structure I've described is something I completely made up; I have no idea if it would be feasible to build it. However, in thinking over the way I picture it in my head, I can't think of anything that is unreasonable in its design. When I have time, I'll try and draw out the plans better and put them on Tumblr.**


	32. Chapter 32 Part 3: Shelter Me

**Today's dedication will be at the end of this chapter.**

* * *

February, 2000

They didn't talk about the moment in the cavern. Kate, because she wasn't quite there yet; not ready to advance to the next stage. Rick, because he didn't want to push her. He was afraid that he would lose his focus, which was too easy to do around her. An unguarded instant on his part might frighten her off. Or make her angry. So, he resolved to try and avoid intimate moments such as the two they'd had today. He had a house to finish, and his energy and unfulfilled passion could be channeled into that job.

Rick had found that there was a ledge just wide enough to walk along on the side of the waterfall opposite to the shore they occupied. It was about three feet below the current water level, and led all the way to the shore. This would simplify stocking the cave significantly, though they would have to ferry their supplies to that shore, or use that side of the lake to harvest the foods they wanted stored.

The rest of the night was spent discussing what they'd cache in the cave and planning some times to accomplish it all. Most cyclones occurred during the rainy season, which ended in March. Rick thought hauling in some wood for a fire now would be sensible, but they could wait for the rest until they had more time. Kate concurred, and they decided to spend part of the next morning crossing that task off their list.

The night passed without further incident, though perhaps a bit fitfully for both. Neither slept well, hyperaware of the other on the adjoining mattress. As dawn broke across the sky, they were both up and ready to start the day. Determined to avoid awkward junctures, Kate engaged him in meaningless banter and tried to tease him about the surprise she would be working on later in the day.

After canoeing to the far shore, Rick spent the morning chopping down a couple trees and splitting the wood while Kate gathered fallen limbs. They soon had a sizeable pile on the shore; Rick got in the water with his seine net and Kate tossed the wood logs in the lake after him. Gathering up a load in the net, he pulled it along behind him, and steadily drew it into the cavern after he swam under the falls. Kate followed, making sure none of the logs broke free. They stacked the wood in the back, and Rick left a shell lamp with oil and wicks separated. He also left about half of the very few matches they had. He'd made a fire bow during some of the down time they'd had out on the beach making salt, so they had started using it nearly exclusively for sparks. It wasn't quite as fast as a match, but once he'd shown Kate how to use it, she'd been successful with it after practicing for some time.

After making two more trips, they had a nice pile of slowly drying wood and the peace of mind that if a storm blew in, they had a safe haven to go to. As they paddled back to Pereora, Kate asked Rick about the rest of his day.

"Continuing on the purlins. I really want to get started on the thatching. How is the harvesting of the leaves going?"

"Great. There's plenty now dry, ready to start."

"Ok, I'll show you how to start making the battens, and we'll be able to start roofing before you know it."

When they got back to Pereora, Kate showed Rick the large number of Pandanus leaves she'd dried. He'd also had her gathering coco leaves, and showed her how to split the midrib out. Using ribs about four feet in length, they then sandwiched two Pandanus leaves, shiny side out. One end of this pair was folded over the midrib and 'sewn' with another rib so that the ends folded over were joined. This was repeated until the entire four foot length of the midrib was supporting numerous pairs of Pandanus leaves. This comprised one batten.

When Rick was ready to start thatching, he'd take a batten and tie it to a purlin on the roof. The thatching, just like the purlins, was begun on the far edge of the roof. Each subsequent layer was then tied so that it overlapped the layer below. It would take a lot of labor, from both of them. But in the end they would have a waterproof roof that would last as long as five years.

As with all the jobs that required some facility with her hands, Kate found it very easy to make the battens for the thatch. She was able to get a good start on it after they'd returned from the cavern. After lunch, however, she decided to finish up her surprise for Rick. She knew he'd be excited, and honestly, it would make the construction of the thatch battens even easier. She was not quite finished by dinner time, but it was close enough that Rick could help her do the last bit.

"Kate?"

She heard him calling from the kitchen area. It was time for them to eat, but she was determined to show him her surprise before they ate. Plus, it would make dinner an even more pleasant experience. She hurried back to where he waited for her, standing silhouetted by the late day sun. Her breath caught at the sight, the outline of a man in his prime. The outline of Rick. Her heart beat sped up noticeably.

"Kate. Where've you been? It's time for dinner."

"I was finishing the surprise. But it's not quite done."

"That's ok. You'll have some more light after dinner, or first thing in the morning."

"I really wanted to surprise you before dinner. And even though it's not entirely done, I think you'll like it. Do you mind coming now?"

"Mind? No, I don't mind. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. It'll actually add to dinner, and to the work on the battens."

"Ok, now I'm dying of curiosity. Lead on, Ms. Beckett."

He followed her to where she'd been working. It was a small stand of bamboo, none big enough for use on the house for framework, so Rick hadn't bothered with it.

"Ok, now it's your turn to close your eyes," she admonished.

"Kate…," he whined.

"Nope, you made me do it. Your turn."

"All right, if you insist," he huffed. "Are you going to keep me from falling, like I did with you?"

"Nope."

"No! You're going to let me fall?" His eyes had flown open again.

"No, calm down, Rick. You don't need to walk anywhere. Just—stay _here_. Don't move, and keep those eyes closed."

"Fine," he grumbled, closing them again. "But I hope you hurry up, because you know I hate surprises."

She was moving about in the foreground, moving something. Sometimes it sounded like it was heavy; other times it seemed like it was something light.

"Can I open my eyes yet? Huh, Kate?"

"No!" she exclaimed, irritably. "Just one more minute. Honestly, I have no idea how you have the patience to build a house, for goodness sakes."

"But that's different. I'm always doing something, when it comes to the house. Right now I'm just standing, with nothing to do."

"Well, I'm ready. Ok, open your eyes."

He didn't hesitate, eyes flying open ready to drink in whatever it was that she'd been preparing to surprise him. And surprised he was. And pleased.

"Wow, Kate! This is…its incredible."

"Do you like them?"

"Yes! It's way better than I could have done." He was standing in front of a fairly large bamboo table and two stools.

"Come try out the stool," she encouraged. "They're completely done, but the table is not quite finished."

"It looks finished," he said, thoughtfully, as he examined the stool, then sat down with a sigh of contentment. "This is awesome. So much better than the ground or those dumb logs we were using."

She'd made the stools out of four equal lengths of bamboo, forming a slight rectangular shape. It was cross braced with more bamboo halfway down, while the seat was a woven mat of coco leaves, salvaged from the ones used for their midrib to make battens.

The table base was four more lengths of bamboo with cross beams connecting them. On top of this frame rested a surface composed of equal lengths of bamboo tied together to make a solid surface.

"Why do you say the table isn't done?" he asked, curious. "It looks fine."

"It's almost done. But the top isn't attached to the bottom frame yet. I need to tie it all together, but I didn't have time before you called for me."

"That actually might be an advantage. It will be easier to carry back to the kitchen if they are separated."

"That's true. Good thinking."

"I'm full of good ideas," he grinned at her. "Let's carry the stools and the bottom frame of the table back to the kitchen, then we can carry the top of the table back, together."

Once they had all the pieces back in the kitchen, Rick helped her tie the top of the table to the frame very quickly. It fit very nicely under the pergola, though there would be more room once they got rid of their tent. Next, Rick set the table with their dishes, while she prepared the dinner. Once everything was ready, he took a step back and just stared at the sight of the table holding their meal.

"This is amazing, Kate. What a nice surprise, and you're right, this will definitely help making the battens for the thatch. It will be so much more comfortable to sit at a stool with the table to work with rather than sitting on the ground."

"It does look nice, doesn't it?"

"I wish I had a camera, to record this moment. Everything is finally coming together; starting to feel like a home instead of just a camp. Thank you."

* * *

March, 2000

The next few weeks passed in a cloud of exhaustion for Rick. He was determined to get the house done as quickly as possible. For some reason, he'd decided that he couldn't, _wouldn't_, try to move forward with Kate until the house was at least roofed and floored. In other words, habitable. He felt it would be yet another seminal moment in their relationship if he could offer her a permanent, comfortable shelter to live in.

So, he worked from dawn until dusk. First, he had to finish placing the purlins. Then came the tying on of all the battens. Since Kate was working on churning them out full time, he was able to continue working on the roof without interruption. Day by day, the thatch slowly climbed up the sloped roof. It took over a week to finish it all, but Rick was incredibly proud when they were done.

He strongly considered moving their tent under the roof; it had proven to be dry during one of the ubiquitous rain storms. However, there were still no walls and no floor. Moving their stuff would waste part of a day, and as he started in on the flooring, it would interfere with his construction on that front.

Now that Kate had finished the battens, Rick explained his plan for the fixed walls. Kate understood what he wanted, but wasn't thrilled with the entire plan.

"Let me get this right. You want the walls to be thatched as well?"

"Yes, more or less." Seeing her look of doubt, Rick pressed forward. "It's to make it waterproof as well. A lot of these storms have some good wind gusts with them, and if the sides aren't sealed, I'm afraid we'll still be getting wet."

"I agree, but it doesn't need to be thatched. I can weave mats to size, that are basically waterproof. It'll look better and go much faster. I can weave a mat pretty quickly. Making battens for the walls would take longer."

Rick considered the idea. He'd honestly not thought about using mats. The only material he knew could be waterproof was thatch, so that's why he'd chosen it.

"Ok, Kate. Go ahead and make your mats. We can always augment things later, if we need to."

"Gee, Rick, your confidence in my skills is overwhelming."

He halted, shocked. He hadn't meant it that way. "No, Kate. I didn't mean to question your skills. I was thinking about my blueprints for the house, and these windows and things. I have no idea if they're going to work, so I figure we'll try something out and if it's a bad way to solve a problem? Well, we'll just come up with a new plan. I wasn't talking about your idea with the mats. I think it's a good plan."

She grunted, not entirely swayed by his words, and more than a little annoyed at him. Sometimes, she'd found he was a bit resistant to ideas that weren't his own. Even if they were better ideas. He was a typical man, in that sense. And it could be irritating.

* * *

Rick hated doing the floor probably more than any other part of building the house. It was time consuming and required precise measuring and cutting. He realized he was in trouble when he started in on the first section. There were eight floor joists radiating out from the central pole to the wall posts. He had planned to run the split bamboo floor across each joist; there would then be eight pie pieces of progressively smaller bamboo splits, until they hit the central post.

He soon discovered that this approach simply wouldn't work. Each floor joist was simply not wide enough to carry the two sides of the flooring that would be needed. If he'd had access to drills and screws, it would've been fine. He could simply fasten each side to half the floor joist, letting them abut up next to each other. It would have required careful miter cuts of the ends, so they'd fit together on the floor joist but it would have been solid and smooth.

However, he had none of those resources. He had to tie his floor to the joists. Which meant each section had to cross its joist, in order to be tied down. Which was impossible, since they'd then cross over each other.

He considered orienting the bamboo lengthwise, but couldn't figure out an easy way to do this and maintain structural integrity as he'd have to reduce the amount of bamboo drastically as it approached the central pole and the area of the rough triangle narrowed to a point. Again, the issue was that of having to tie it all down. More secure ways of fastening it would have made it simple, but despite his fervent wishes no plane flew overhead and accidentally dropped a box full of screws and drills. Nor did any genies pop out of their shell lamps. More's the pity.

In the end, Kate was the one who helped him figure it out. She had taken her job of making the fixed walls quite seriously, and had been the one to cut and place the half-wall beams, then started weaving the mats to fit the space. She'd heard him muttering to himself as she worked on one of the walls. Ignoring him, at first, she'd finally gotten tired of his childish behavior when he kicked a clump of dirt violently.

"What is wrong? And don't say 'nothing' because there is obviously something going on with you. I thought you were working on the floor?"

"Well, I would be, if I could figure out how to do it."

"I don't understand the problem. You laid a floor of bamboo for the outhouse and even built the seat for it out of bamboo. What's different?"

"The outhouse was rectangular. That's easy. I don't know why I chose a freaking round shape for this house; I can't figure out how to lay the floor."

"You told me you chose to make it round to minimize wind forces on the roof. You said something about yurts in Mongolia, if I recall."

She was right. He had been thinking about yurts at the time. And thinking that their roof would be the part of the house most vulnerable to damage, which is why he'd sacrificed some of their invaluable nylon to its cause. But he hadn't thought about the damn floor.

"Now I know why so many huts in Tahiti had dirt floors," he sulked.

Kate rolled her eyes again, amused and irritated at his childish behavior. "Well, I'd highly prefer to have a nicer floor than dirt, personally. Ok, explain to me exactly why you're struggling here."

Rick passionately detailed for her what the issues were. He honestly couldn't see a solution, and the more frustrated he became, the more hopeless it all seemed.

"So, what you're saying, is that these eight floor joists aren't wide enough to tie the floor to?" she asked, seeing what he was talking about.

"Yes." That was the issue in a nutshell.

"Why don't you just make them wider?"

Rick was staring forlornly at the bare, mocking joists. How he had come to hate them, in such a short time. He'd chosen ones that were large, or so he'd thought at the time, knowing they'd carry the load of the flooring and furniture. However, they were not large enough, as it had turned out.

"Rick!"

"Huh?"

"You weren't paying attention to me again."

He looked over at her; she was obviously frustrated with him, standing there with one arm on her hip, posture stiff. She was so cute when riled up. But that thought would get him nowhere right now.

"Sorry. I'm just so annoyed with myself, for having not thought this through. And now I can't come up with a solution; it's keeping us from moving in." And from moving forward, together.

"I asked why you just can't make them wider?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I was thinking about that. I'll have to go find eight more pieces from the giant bamboo grove to replace these, but it's still going to be a difficult process."

"No, that's not what I meant. Why don't you just cut two more pieces of bamboo that're about as wide as one joist, then tie them to either side of a joist. Making the joist the center of a sandwich of bamboo. Then tie the floor to those pieces."

Rick stared at her in disbelief. It was…brilliant. "That would—absolutely work. You're a genius, Kate!" He walked over to her, picked her up in his arms and swung her around, laughing out loud. "Thank you so much!" Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek before skipping out to his bamboo supply. Leaving behind one shell-shocked woman who was breathlessly wishing he'd kissed her lips and not her cheek.

* * *

Once he had a solution, it was a matter of doing the work. And he worked like a demon. With a roof and a floor, he figured that would be enough for them to move in. Kate was working hard on the walls; in fact she had finished two of them before he'd finished harvesting and adding the sister joists to all eight pieces.

Next, he'd started splitting bamboo. Each stem could be split into four pieces, from which he then shaved off any obvious rough parts and then cut to fit area between two sister joists. Each piece of flooring was tied to its neighbor, and at both ends to the joists. He also ran some half joists about to the mid-point of each section, providing some more support of the outermost sections that had the widest gap between the original floor joists.

It was labor intensive, but with his goal in mind (i.e. Kate), he worked non-stop. He'd finished six of the sections within a week and a half. It went faster as he gained more experience with the process, and he figured he could finish the next two sections within a few days. Which was great, as he'd started dreaming of split bamboo and the angle cuts needed to fit them into each other. Far, far less pleasant than his usual dreams of a brown haired, hazel eyed siren.

He was sitting in the kitchen, enjoying breakfast as he mused over the past month and all they'd accomplished. Kate had finished eating before he had, running off to check their garden and fruit trees before starting in on her last wall. She just had to do the final touches on the mat for the wall, then would be done. Well before he completed the floor, but they were so close to the end, he could taste it. Then, they would have a house with a complete roof, complete floor, and seven half walls. Enough, indeed, to move into.

As he mulled it all over, the bamboo calendar they'd been using caught his eye. He'd not paid it much attention recently. Kate had taken over the task of cutting a mark for each new day; he'd been so busy with the house, and probably would have forgotten to keep track of things. He noticed that they were well into March, which surprised him. Time was flying by, though that was due in no small part to how much work they'd done. Suddenly, he leaned forward, peering at the calendar more closely. In two days, it would be the anniversary of their shipwreck. And two days later, their arrival on the island. Four months. It was hard to believe.

Inspired, he leapt up. He would finish the floor for their anniversary of the wreck. And perhaps he'd think of something really special to celebrate the anniversary of their arrival on the island, as well.

* * *

Kate had just finished cutting down another large breadfruit when she heard him calling her name. Stepping out of the trees, she yelled his name back, letting him know where she was. She'd left that morning to do some foraging. They'd both been working so hard on the house that there'd been little time to gather food. The stockpile they'd been relying on was now dangerously low, and with her last half-wall finished, she'd decided to start in on replenishing it.

Her work on the house wasn't done; she knew Rick wanted to get going on the upper, moveable portion of the walls, and he'd also asked for a screen that could be rolled down over each window if it were open. However, food was a priority, and she enjoyed getting away from all the weaving she'd been doing.

But now Rick was calling for her. She watched as he skipped towards her, looking for the entire world like a gamboling puppy. He was quite excited, that much was evident, even from yards away.

"Kate! Kate! You have to come!"

"Come where, Rick?"

"The house! I'm done with the floor. It's ready for us, finally."

Kate gaped at him. She'd finished her last wall yesterday morning, and thought he had another few days to go before being finished.

"It's done?"

He nodded, thrilled he had surprised her. "Wanna come see it?"

She nodded and took a step, before remembering what she had been doing.

"Could you help me get a few more breadfruit first? That way I don't have to come back out gathering for a few days."

He grabbed her knife and cut down four more ripe fruit in short order. Helping her carry her basket, he practically pranced his way back to the kitchen. Kate smiled, amused by his enthusiasm. He'd wanted her to come to the house immediately, but Kate insisted on putting the fruit up first. Something about the kitchen seemed—not right, but she didn't have time to think about it, as Rick grabbed her arm and practically dragged her to the clearing where the house stood.

It looked quite impressive from the outside. Snug, despite its lack of doors and upper walls. Anything beyond a tarp would look snug, at this point. Strong. Well built; she knew the labor they'd both poured into it. Sheltering. It looked like…home.

Rick had set the ladder next to the large opening where the door would go. There were no steps yet, and the floor was too high to simply step up to. He couldn't wait for Kate to climb the two rungs needed to be inside the house, but she'd paused to drink in the house properly from the outside. He bounded forward and jumped up into the entrance, not needing the ladder due to all the excess energy fizzing around his bloodstream.

Finally, finally, she was at the ladder. He reached down and gave her a hand to help pull her up into their house for the first time.

Kate stood, near tears as she looked around. It was done. Well, not done, but ready for them. She'd been around it as the construction had progressed, so it surprised her at how visceral a reaction that she had, seeing it completed. The roof soared above, dry and protective. The floor was strong and warm. The walls were sturdy. Empty, it would have evoked emotion, no doubt. But it wasn't empty. Rick had evidently finished the floor some time ago, then had moved their stuff inside. The mattresses were arranged on one side, clothes and linens piled nearby. Some of their other meager belongings were scattered throughout, waiting more furniture. He'd festooned some flowers around a few of the posts.

"What do you think?" he asked, unable to remain silent any longer, watching her drink it all in.

"It's marvelous," she sighed. And it was. Beyond expectation. "I can't believe you moved in our stuff."

"Everything but the pallets. They were too heavy. And I figured we'd be able to start on furniture soon, anyway."

She reluctantly turned from looking at the house until she was facing him entirely. "It's incredible, Rick. You should be so proud, you did a phenomenal job. It's hard to comprehend how much work you put into it."

He stared at her intently, making no effort to hide his love for her in his gaze or in his words. "We did it together, Kate," he stated, reaching out with both hands to cup her face. "It's built out of love, my love for you. Strong, to withstand whatever life throws at us. It's bound tightly, like we are to each other. It's permanent, nothing will bring it down easily. It's deep; it looks small from the outside, but once you come in you see it hides its depths. And it's transformative. We get to go from living under flimsy plastic to this. Just as my love for you has transformed me. It's all for you."

Leaning forward, he touched his lips to hers for the first time. And just as the house had taken root on the island, so did the love that they shared, as passion blossomed between them, matching the exotic flowers that watched the rapturous kiss.

* * *

**This chapter is dedicated to all the readers of this fic. It's the chapter most of you have been waiting for. I hope you've enjoyed it, and I thank each and every one of you for joining me on this journey. We are far from the end of this fic, but we now get to see them take on the world truly together. **


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